


Letters Out

by thebasement_archivist



Category: Oz (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-07
Updated: 2003-05-07
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Doggett goes undercover in      Emerald City. This is part of the 'Letters' universe, where      Doggett and Skinner are an item.





	Letters Out

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Letters Out

### Letters Out

#### by Forbes

  

    
    
         Date: Sunday, April 06, 2003 10:50 AM
         Hi there... I know I said I wouldn't do any more of the
         Letter's stories, but this just goes to prove i know
         nothing! I'll be posting in chunks to keep one step behind
         my wonderful beta!
    
         Title: Letters Out.
         Author: Forbes
         Feedback: 
         Rating: What do you imagine? N17 at least.
         Summary: X-Files/Oz crossover.  Doggett goes undercover in
         Emerald City. This is part of the 'Letters' universe, where
         Doggett and Skinner are an item. This will make more sense
         if you're familiar with the canon of my previous 5 tales. I
         would imagine a lot of readers will know  the characters
         from Oz, but I don't think it's compulsory!
         Disclaimer: Neither the characters from Oz or the X-Files
         are mine. I'm just being  very bad with them.
         Thanks to Georgia for her magnificent beta-skills.  I am
         nothing but a heaving pile of Britishism without her.
         This one is for Julie... Thank you for the  plot-bunny and
         all my best wishes to you and your son.
         Order of the stories in the Letters series:
           Letter D for Doggett
           Letter F for...
           Letters OMG
           Letters Pray
           Letters TMI
           Letters Out
    

* * *

Chapter 1 

"You don't have to do this," Skinner said, leaning against the door frame. 

Doggett glanced up from his dufflebag. The other man's face was a picture of misery. He looked exactly how Doggett felt. 

He shrugged, jamming another pair of socks deep into the bag with extreme prejudice. 

"Yes I do. You know I do." 

"You could say you're sick." 

Doggett gave him a look. "Yeah, right. And everyone's gonna believe that." He pulled the cord to tighten the bag. "Besides, you think I want the whole Bureau thinkin' I'm some kinda chickenshit?" 

"They wouldn't..." 

Doggett threw the bag on the bed and strode the few feet separating them. He reached to cup Skinner's cheek. 

"Yes, Walt, they would." He rubbed his palm back and forth across the strong jaw. "And they'd be right. I am scared. You know it. I know it, and I expect the whole fuckin team knows it." 

He leaned in to press a small kiss to the corner of Skinner's mouth. "But bein' the contrary sonofabitch I am..." He grinned. "I'm gonna do it, anyway." 

Not returning the smile, Skinner pulled a face. "I don't like it." 

Doggett sighed. "Nor me, Walt, nor me. But duty calls, you know?" 

Throwing his hands up in the air, Skinner strode into the bedroom. "Duty my ass! It's not even our fucking jurisdiction!" 

"Tell me about it. But what can you do? I go where I'm needed." 

Skinner watched as he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He wanted to tell the other man that he needed him here. 

Right now at this time, more than ever, but the words stuck in his throat. 

He knew Doggett had to go. They both understood the call of duty. 

But that didn't stop him wishing he could just tell Doggett why he was acting so needy. 

"Look, Scully will be here any minute. I gotta go." Holding his free hand out, Doggett wiggled his fingers. "See me off?" 

Skinner swallowed and nodded, taking the outstretched hand. He would just have to wait until John came back. 

Leading the bigger man down the stairs, Doggett promised himself he wouldn't embarrass either himself or Skinner in front of Scully. 

Maybe it was a good job she was taking him to the drop-off zone, rather than Walt. He didn't think he could stand saying goodbye to this man in a public place. 

Bad enough having to say goodbye to him at all. 

Reaching the lounge, Skinner suddenly pulled back. "I can't do this." 

"Yes, you can." 

"I can't." Skinner pulled his hand free and rubbed it over his face. "It's too..." 

"Hey..." Doggett re-captured the hand and squeezed it. "C'mon, big guy. It's just for a coupla weeks." 

Oh, yeah, a couple of weeks living in a maximum security facility, pretending to be one of the scumbag inmates, just so he could maybe, perhaps get some information about corruption in the justice system. 

Like anyone thought the justice system was all clean and above board at the best of times. 

No big deal. Stay out of trouble and the quicker he got the information, the quicker he'd be out of there. But the look on Skinner's face reflected the fear that he was trying so hard to keep behind a locked door in his own mind. The fear taunting him that something was going to happen, that this was just too dangerous. 

"Yeah," Skinner agreed, struggling to be positive. 

"I'll be back before you know I'm gone." Doggett forced a grin onto his face. "Back here, drivin' you nuts, flickin' channels; puttin' my boots on the table and drinking straight from the carton." 

"I hate when you do that," Skinner said, a shadow of a smile ghosting across his face. 

"I know." He pulled Skinner closer. "And I'll expect you to give me hell about it, okay? Now, do I get a kiss before Scully gets here?" 

The sorry excuse for a smile on Skinner's face melted into a genuine grin. "Oh, I think I can manage that." 

"I should think so." Doggett pulled their hips together as Skinner took his face in between his hands. 

The kiss stared slow, gentle touches that moved across each other's mouths, gradually warming into something more sensuous. At an unspoken signal, Skinner's tongue slipped between Doggett's parted lips to stroke inside his mouth. Their caresses merged into sucking, both responding with increasing urgency. 

Tilting his head to get better access, Doggett pushed himself against the bigger man, suddenly desperate to feel each hard muscle one last time, every sharp angle of bone in that strong body. Letting his dufflebag fall to the floor, he kneaded Skinner's back with both hands, moving desperately from shoulder to hip, squeezing and probing. He took both ass cheeks in a steel grip just as the doorbell rang. 

They both jumped. 

"Shit," Skinner whispered, resting their foreheads together. 

"Oh boy..." Doggett pulled in a couple of shaky breaths to steady himself. Fuck this. He didn't want to let go. 

He didn't want to go, period. 

The bell rang. 

Skinner sighed and reached to adjust the bulge in his jeans. "I'd better let her in before she shoots the lock off." 

Pausing with a hand on his own swollen crotch, Doggett glanced up."She wouldn't..." 

The bell was pressed again. 

They looked at each other. "She would," they said simultaneously, laughing and breaking the moment. 

Sighing again, Skinner moved to the door, not taking his eyes off Doggett. He opened the door. 

"Agent Scully." 

"I was beginning to wonder if he'd gone into hiding," Scully said, standing with her arms folded. She looked ever so slightly ticked off. Doggett grinned at her. 

Skinner shrugged. "I tried to talk him into it." 

"You did?" 

"I tried." 

"Let me guess. He wouldn't entertain the idea." 

"Something like that." 

She snorted. "I can imagine." She looked from one to the other. "Are you ready to go?" 

No, Doggett thought. I'm not. 

But "Yeah, I guess," was what came out of his mouth. He bent and picked up his bag. "Time we hit the road." He was determined to get through this with the minimum of fuss. 

"See ya, Walt," he said, patting the large shoulder as he moved to the door. "I'd say I'd call you every night, but you know..." His voice trailed off. 

The way Skinner was staring at him very nearly undid his good intentions to get out of the apartment with his guts intact. 

"John..." 

Doggett swallowed. "I know." 

"Take care." 

"I will." 

Skinner scowled. "I mean it." 

Doggett nodded, looking down at the floor. He knew he meant it. "Yeah." The moment stretched out between them, sharp as a paper cut. There were a million things he wanted to say to the other man, but nothing sensible sprang to mind. He guessed Skinner knew most of what was in his mind, anyway. Hoped he did. Doggett felt a slight smile tug his lips. Yeah. The way Skinner had made love to him the night before proved he did. 

"I need you to come back in one piece." 

Doggett glanced up at the naked plea in Skinner's voice. Oh, shit. He had to get out. Now. 

No way he wanted Scully to see either of them getting mushy. Doggett glanced behind, not trusting himself to meet Skinner's eyes properly. "I'll see ya." 

"Okay." 

He almost made it to the door before a hand snagged his arm. "John?" 

"Uh-huh?" 

As he turned, Doggett felt the hand move to the back of his head and Skinner was suddenly invading his personal space. A mouth on his, a tongue quickly invading, then out as he was kissed hard. 

The grip on his neck tightened. "You be careful, you hear me?" 

Skinner whispered hoarsely. 

He leaned in once more to brush his lips across Doggett's cheek and breathed in his ear. 

"Love you." 

Then he stepped back, the AD mask in place on his face. 

Doggett nodded, too stunned from the kiss, the words and the display of affection in front of Scully, to reply. He just nodded acknowledgment and walked out into the hall, leaving the pair of them standing in the doorway. He could feel both pairs of eyes on his back as he turned the corner to the elevators. Christ! 

He took a deep breath. 

Just when he thought he'd got himself under control, the bastard goes and does that. 

Doggett shook his head, feeling a rueful smile creep out. Crazy man. 

What the hell was all that about? So much for maintaining a dignified face in front of the troops. He wondered if Scully would be able to stop herself from making a comment about that kiss. 

Shrugging the bag higher on his shoulder, he poked the button for the elevator, thought about the embrace, how it made him feel, what it said about the two of them and decided he was okay with it if she did. 

* * *

Chapter 2. 

The heat and the steady rhythm of the tires on asphalt rocked Doggett into a haze as his eyes drifted shut, his head resting on the passenger window. 

It melted the inside of the car away, the drone of the radio morphing into the memory of the de-briefing in a stuffy boardroom. 

"...You want me to do what?" 

Doggett stared at the man in the gray suit like he'd grown a set of floppy bunny-ears. 

"Do you have a hearing problem, Agent Doggett?" 

Frowning, Doggett shook his head. "No, but..." 

"Then I suggest you concentrate on the details in the assignment and stop being obtuse." 

Doggett flinched as if struck. His eyes flicked across the table to Skinner's, seeking reassurance. 

His lover sat rigid, his face pale and tight. He looked like he was either having a severe gas attack, or was holding himself back from ripping this guy an interesting new asshole. 

The idea was small comfort. Biting back a snappy remark, Doggett bent his head and tried to concentrate on the report in front of him, and not freak out. 

"Warden Glynn will be the only member of staff who knows your identity." 

Skinner leaned forward. "Is that safe?" 

"It's entirely within protocol." 

Doggett exchanged a look with Skinner. "So none of the guards are gonna know I'm a Fed?" 

"No." 

Doggett sighed. "Can't say I'm too crazy about that." 

The man opposite made a noise to indicate his feelings on Doggett's opinion. 

"Agent Doggett, I am aware this case requires a high degree of professionalism, if you feel that you are not..." 

Stung, Doggett scowled at the other man. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it. I'm just tryin' to get a feel for what's gonna be goin' down, is all." 

"What is 'going down' is you being in the prison, making contact with the inmate, gaining his confidence and finding out which judge or judges are implicated. That is all. No heroics, no messing up, no problem. Am I right?" 

This guy was seriously getting on his balls. This inter-departmental co-operation routine was a big crock, if you asked John Doggett. Just an excuse to get the Feds to do the city's dirty work. 

"Agent Doggett? If you want to withdraw from this operation, then I suggest you make your feelings known, now." 

Doggett grunted. 

"Well?" 

"I'm in." He growled, risking a glance at Skinner. The look on his face told him everything he needed to know about his lover's feelings on the matter. He had an idea they were going to be having a long talk, later. 

"So as I was saying..." Gray suit droned on. "The inmate is scheduled for re-location within the next few weeks, so we need to get the names of the judges that are on the payroll before then. It's up to you to maintain the cover-story you've been given, to stay incognito in order to gain his confidence and get the relevant information." 

"Uh-huh." Doggett flipped a page to look at his details. He scanned down. 

"Johnny?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"We thought that was sufficiently close to your real name to be useful, without compromising anything. Last thing we need is you to ruin the case by failing to respond to someone calling your name." 

Doggett bristled at the slight on his professionalism. They thought he'd blow his cover over a stupid ass thing like that? 

"The rest of the..." 

"Agent Doggett?" Skinner spoke in a quietly dangerous voice. 

"Sir?" 

"Are you happy with that, or do you have another suggestion?" 

Doggett pursed his lips, squashing a smile. Good old Walt. 

"Yeah, actually, I do." 

The silence from the man in the suit spoke reams about Skinner's interruption and his opinion. 

"If it's all the same to you," he said, clearly not caring whether it was all the same. "I'd just as soon not have a bunch of rapists and killers callin' me by the same name my mamma uses." 

This time the silence was deeper. The concept was obviously so far out of left-field the suits couldn't process it. 

"Oh." 

"So, I think maybe..." Doggett shrugged. "Jack will do." 

To make his point, he picked up a pen and amended the document without waiting for permission. 

A small victory, but one-nothing to him, nevertheless. 

The scrunch of gravel as the car pulled up, jolted Doggett out of his doze. 

"Huh?" The memory of the boardroom fled with the glare of the summer sun. 

"Ground Zero," Scully said, turning off the engine. 

"What?" Rubbing his eyes, he looked around. Never dreamed he'd drop to sleep, but then again, he hadn't gotten a great deal of sleep the night before. 

"We're here, sleepy-head." 

"Sorry. I wasn't much company." 

Scully shrugged. "No problem." She nodded into the parking lot. "But the ride's over, I'm afraid." 

Squinting into the glare, Doggett felt his breath catching in his throat. There was a big silver and blue prison bus parked in front of them. The prison emblem gleamed in the sun. 

"Shit," he muttered, unbuckling and opening his door. The journey seemed to have flown by. And now he was actually on the threshold of it, he really didn't want to go. He slammed the door with more force than usual. Damn. He wished Skinner had come along. Just so he could see the man for a last time. 

No, he corrected himself, not the last time. For the time being. 

"John?" Dragging his thoughts back from the morbid, he waited as Scully walked around the car. 

"Uh-huh?" 

Standing in front, Scully smiled. "Take care, you hear?" 

He rolled his eyes. "You too?" 

"Yes, me too," she agreed. "I'm going to be dealing with a very cranky Walter Skinner for the duration of this case, so you get the job done quickly, and get out of there, you understand me?" 

Grinning he mock-saluted her. "Yes, ma'am." 

She pulled a face at his teasing then sighed. "Tim McManus is a good man. I would imagine he runs a pretty fair place." 

Doggett didn't bother to hide his surprise. "You know the man who runs Em City?" 

"I met him at a seminar, some years back." 

"A medical thing?" 

"No. Psychology." 

"Oh." 

She sounded nonchalant enough and he didn't care to pursue the issue. 

"Okay." 

They stood looking at one another for a moment. 

"Take care of Walt for me." It wasn't a question. He knew she would. 

"I will." 

Across the parking lot, the bus started up its engine. 

"I think that's my cue." He hefted the bag up. Suck it up, soldier, he thought. Let's get the job done. There was a touch to his sleeve. 

He looked down. 

"Can I get a hug?" 

Doggett's eyebrows rose. Wasn't she full of surprises? First she insists on driving him for the entire state-to-state journey, not once mentioning the fact she just saw her boss with his tongue down his throat, and then she gets all clingy. 

"Sure," he said, reaching down. to his surprise, it didn't feel nearly as strange as he would have thought, hugging this woman. 

Strong arms reached around his neck and hugged hard. 

"Be careful," she said, her words tickling his ear. 

"I will," he said, hugging her back, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that this was stirring up. 

"Promise..." 

"I promise." Goddamn it, he was gonna get all teary-eyed in a minute. 

He pulled away. 

"I gotta go." Shifting the bag again, he nodded. "See ya." 

One small hand raised and an even smaller smile. "Bye." 

Doggett glanced back once as he walked to the bus. Just once; and that was a mistake. The sight of Scully standing with her arms wrapped around herself as if it wasn't nearly 70 degrees was almost enough to send his guts spiralling into a bucket of ice. 

Fuck! What was it about this case that made both of them act like he was going to prison for real? 

As he looked at the man standing in front of the bus, a pair of hand restraints dangling ready, a hard expression on his face, he began to wonder if he'd just made the worst career decision in his life. 

* * *

Chapter 3. 

That feeling of sick panic didn't leave Doggett for the entire trip to Oswald Penitentiary. The restraints started to hurt about five minutes after they were snapped on, the bus was too hot and the man next to him stank of garlic and sweat. He had several hours to ruminate on his position, the case and the unfairness of being seated next to someone with no idea of personal hygene. 

His mood moved from disgruntled into pissed off after the second time the other man passed gas. 

He still pretty much felt the same way as the last in a long line of steel doors slammed shut behind him. 

The heat of the day might have subsided, but the stink blossomed into a whole new range. The air inside the prison was heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies, old food, disinfectant and desperation. 

Before he knew it, he found himself sitting on a long bench, his arms full of bedding and toilet roll, still slightly damp from his shower, feeling embarrassed and invaded from the body-cavity search. 

It was one thing to know intellectually about these things, but another to feel the slip of Vaseline and burn of a blunt finger. He could still feel the ache, half an hour later. 

Never mind he and Walter might be used to doing it, being stripped, bent over and probed up the ass by a total stranger left something to be desired in his book. The only saving grace had been the liberal use of Vaseline. 

Shit. This had got to be the worst assignment yet. It beat batmen, creepy-crawlies and even little freaks on skateboards to hell and back. 

He looked around at the other men in the room and wondered what they were in for. Couldn't tell just by looking. There were around twelve newbies in with him, all sitting awkwardly, most looking pretty sorry for themselves. Doggett imagined he probably had the same sorry-assed expression on his face. 

He let his eyes wander around the room. A guy with the word 'hate' tattooed on his forehead glared back at him and Doggett hurriedly looked away. 

No eye contact... No eye contact, he chanted. Gotta remember to keep himself to himself. He studied the pile of bedclothes on his lap. 

Shit, this was definitely not one of his smarter career-moves. Maybe he should have taken Walt's advice and called in sick. Then some other poor sap would've been suckered into helping out. 

He shuffled on the bench, wincing at the squish of lube between his cheeks. 

A guard was handing out prisoners like party-treats, handing them over to other inmates, ticking them off on a chart as they shuffled out of the room. 

He wondered to whom he was going to be given to. And in the long-standing tradition of stressful situations, he was last to be called. 

"Costello, Jack." 

Doggett looked up at his new name. An old man stood beside him. Kind-looking, with soft brown eyes that reminded him of... He crushed that thought. He wasn't going to let Walt into his head now. 

"This is Rebadow," the hack told him, not bothering to look at either of them. "He's gonna take you through orientation." 

Doggett stood up, balancing his toilet rolls. "Hi," he muttered, taking in the man's smile. 

"Hello. Come this way." Rebadow indicated that Doggett should walk in front of him. 

Sneaking a glance at the other man as they walked through into the main area, Doggett gave the other man a tip to toe assessment. He had to be the oldest inmate in the world. Gotta be someone's grandpa. 

Again, the 'what's this one in for?' thought crossed his mind. Must have been bad, regardless of the floppy old-man cardigan. 

"Our pod's this way." 

Doggett pulled his mind back from its wandering. "Pod?" 

Rebadow smiled. "It's what we call the cells in here. Interesting word, don't you think?" He led Doggett up a flight of metal stairs. "We're on the first floor. Rather a good view." 

Doggett frowned and glanced around. What view? It was just the prison. Steel stairs, steel frames, concrete and glass. Clinical, unfriendly and cold. Yeah, some view. 

He looked harder. Below him, three men were in a loud discussion over a chess game, there were several were watching cartoons, headphones on and spaced out. More wandered around, in and out of the weird, glass-fronted rooms. 

Rebadow was nuts. The 'view' was abysmal. 

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Holding open the door, the older man waited as Doggett carefully stepped inside. 

"You get the bottom bunk, I'm afraid. Age has certain advantages." 

"No problem," Doggett said, dumping his stuff down. There was even a smell of old food in here. 

That, or old man fart. 

He sat down heavily. God... how must it feel to be here for real? He glanced up at the man by the door, struck by a sudden feeling of pity. 

"Thanks," he said. 

The bald head tilted. "What for?" 

Doggett shrugged. "Dunno." 

"You are a strange one." Stepping in, Rebadow crossed the small room to stand next to Doggett. "May I?" 

Nodding, Doggett moved over. 

Rebadow sat down, not too close. The two men stared at one another. 

"You don't look like the kind of man who should be in here." 

Doggett started. He scratched his neck. "How d'you figure that?" 

Rebadow just smiled. "I know things," he said. 

"That so?" 

The older man nodded. 

Doggett frowned. Just his luck to get the fruitcake. He stood up abruptly and moved to the doorway. "I could be the Boston Strangler, for all you know," he muttered, looking outside. 

"I don't think so." Rebadow sat calmly, his hands folded in his lap. 

Rolling his eyes, Doggett pulled at the neck of his teeshirt. Oh yeah. The fruitcake. 

He was hot and sticky again, despite the earlier shower. And he could live without the wet feeling between his buttcheeks, too. 

"Say..." he frowned. "What was your name again?" 

"Bob Rebadow." 

Doggett nodded. "Okay... Bob." 

Rebadow shook his head. "Rebadow. Better just Rebadow." 

"Yeah? Who says?" 

Rebadow just smiled. "Trust me." 

Doggett didn't think he was going to change office policy of 'Trust no-one' for this nutcase. Even if he did look like someone's favorite grandpa. 

"Yeah," he said, non-commitally. "So. If you know so much, Rebadow..." He pointed to a large black man, standing staring into their pod. "Tell me - who's that?" 

"That is Kareem Said." 

"He a tough guy?" 

Rebadow shook his head. "No...." He frowned. "Yes.... Maybe." He shrugged. "I don't know." 

Glancing behind, Doggett wondered if the old guy was jerking his chain, but Rebadow was just sitting on the bed, smiling. 

He pointed to another man. "What about him?" 

"I would steer clear of that one, if I were you. Not a nice man." 

Doggett contemplated pointing out that as a maximum security jail, it stood to reason that hardly any of the men were going to be 'nice', but he just sighed and pointed at another inmate. The dark-eyed man was leaning over the balcony, laughing at something down below. 

"And him?" 

There was a pause, long enough for Doggett to turn around and look. 

Rebadow had lost his smile. He shook his head. "Very bad." 

Doggett narrowed his eyes, staring across at the big man with the shaved head and hearty laugh. 

He had a kinda nice face. Attractive, in a hard sort of way. And he always did like dark eyes. 

"You sure 'bout that?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Looks okay to me." Maybe Rebadow was wrong. You never knew. On the other hand, this handsome man may be number one on the list of guys to watch out for. 

"It might be best if you stay away from everyone, for a while, my friend." 

Doggett shook his head. "I never said I was your friend." 

Rebadow just smiled again. Doggett didn't know whether it pissed him off or reassured him. He didn't like feeling off-balance. 

He moved towards Rebadow with a grim expression. "And if I gotta stay away from everyone, old man, that should probably include you, right?" 

"Oh, most probably." That gentle smile was definitely starting to get on Doggett's nerves. It just didn't fit on the face of a man in a maximum security facility. It was a contradiction, and contradictions upset the order of things. Could upset him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, and a hand fell on his shoulder, making him jump. 

"Well, what have we here? A new boy!" 

Doggett turned around, adrenaline rushing, ready to fight. Was he going to have to fight before he'd even been here for five minutes? 

He wasn't happy about the fact someone had managed to creep up on him, like that. 

He tightened his gut. He was ready to fight, if necessary. 

He glared silently at the owner of the hand until he dropped it down from his shoulder. 

Blue eyes stared back; smiling out of a face that radiated good humor. 

Doggett waited for the other guy to speak. 

"Welcome to Oz, my friend." A large hand presented itself to Doggett, who with unconscious good manners, took it. 

"I'm gonna make it my business to see you settled in safe and sound, you hear?" 

The hand was squeezing just the wrong side of firm, testing him. 

Doggett made a point of squeezing right back. 

The grinning man leaned in further and lowered his voice. "Us white folks gotta stick together, you know what I mean?" 

He turned his head to glance meaningfully through the pod window. 

Doggett followed his gaze to Kareem Said, still staring over at their pod. 

"That so?" he said, non-committally. 

"Definitely," the man replied, letting go Doggett's hand. "Isn't that right, Rebadow?" 

Doggett looked behind him when the old man didn't reply. He was sitting rigid, eyes large, hands clamped in his lap. He nodded. "If you say so, Vern." 

The other man laughed loudly as Doggett looked back at him. 

Amendment: This was the number one guy to watch out for. 

* * *

Chapter 4. 

Scully glanced through the crack of the open door and sighed. They'd been lurking in the AD's outer office for the last ten minutes, watching him through the gap in the door. 

It was way past 7 o'clock at night, and all but the cleaning staff had gone home. Ordinarily, so would they, but after witnessing Skinner's behaviour in the last two meetings, she'd dragged a protesting Mulder up to the 6th floor to check up on their boss. 

She'd hoped he had already gone home, but there he was, pacing around like some neurotic panther in a zoo. He looked so lost, it made her ache. 

She looked over to Mulder sitting at Kim's desk, making patterns with paperclips. 

"Mulder!" She flicked a pen at him. The clips scattered. 

Mulder started. "What?! Jeez, Scully," he hissed. "What's with you?" 

"Go talk to him," she whispered, jerking her head towards the office. 

"No way!" Mulder shook his head violently. "Uh-uh. He still hates me." 

"He does not." 

"Does too." 

Scully sighed. "It's been 6 months, Mulder." 

"It could be 6 years, he'd still want to kill me." 

"You're exaggerating. Go speak with him." 

"You go." 

"I think it should be you." 

Mulder folded his arms. "And why on earth do you think he'd want to have a cozy chat with me?" 

"You are another man, in case you hadn't noticed." 

Mulder snorted. "Yeah. The man who made a pass at his boyfriend." 

Scully pulled a face. "I think Doggett's a bit on the mature side to be classed as anyone's 'boyfriend'." 

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, but saying 'lover' just makes it worse." 

"You just kissed him, Mulder, for God's sake. You didn't sleep with him." 

"Yeah. I kissed him. And look where it got me. Look where it got them." 

Rolling her eyes, Scully threw her arms up in the air. "That was ages ago!" 

Grunting, Mulder rolled his eyes. "I don't think Walter Skinner has forgotten that particular act of madness." 

"Coward." 

Mulder started to re-arranged the paperclips. "I think I've more than proved my courage by returning to work with the man who wanted to disembowel me with his bare hands." 

"He did not!" 

Mulder looked up at her. "Did you see the look on his face, when I told him?" 

Scully paused, her mouth open. She shut it, remembering. "Okay. I'll give you that." 

Mulder nodded in satisfaction. "See? You should talk to him. He likes you," he grinned. 

"He likes, you too, Mulder." 

Mulder pulled a face. 

"He does, too." 

"Not as much as he likes you." 

Scully sighed. She acknowledged that it had taken a big helping of guts for Mulder to face Skinner and Doggett after the gargantuan mistake he'd made with Doggett in the Bureau showers. She'd give a month's salary to know what really happened. 

Nah. Make that a year's. But neither man was saying, and John wouldn't tell her if he'd told Skinner. Not that it was any of her business; nevertheless; it killed her to think she was the only one who didn't know the whole story. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mulder..." 

"I'm not going in there, Scully." 

"Please?" 

"Nope." 

She sighed. "Fine. I'll do it." 

"Atta girl!" 

Scully hoped he understood the poisonous look she was giving him as she walked towards the office door. There was going to be a hell of a payback scheme for this. 

She pushed the door open and peered in. Skinner was still pacing, oblivious to her. She stepped inside. 

"Walter?" 

No reply, he just continued his circuit of the room. 

"Walter!" she said loudly, two decibels away from shouting. 

"What?" Skinner jumped guiltily. "Agent Scully." He cleared his throat, putting his spectacles back on and trying to project an aura of calm control. "Can I help you?" 

Scully walked up to him. He wasn't fooling her. She doubted he if was fooling anyone. 

"I'm going for a late supper. Join me, please?" 

She wasn't sure how much the big man had eaten in the last two days, but she'd bet it wasn't as much as he needed. 

"Supper?" Skinner looked at his watch. He seemed surprised at the time. 

"Yes. I'm hungry. Aren't you?" 

Skinner looked at her, his face blank. "Hungry?" he echoed. He hadn't really thought about it. 

"How does Italian sound?" Scully knew that was one of his favorites. 

He needed to eat. And more importantly, he needed company. She would be a poor substitute for the man he loved, but an evening with Dana Scully was better than sitting on his own, moping. 

"Italian..." he said, frowning at the word, as if slowly working out what it meant. "Yes," he smiled eventually. "I'd like that." 

"That's settled then." grabbing his jacket from the chair, she handed it to her boss. "Let's go and eat." 

She took his hand and led him from the room like a child. Mulder stood as they entered the reception. 

"Mulder." Skinner curtly nodded at the other man. 

Mulder tilted his head. "Sir." 

"Are you going to be joining us?" There was an edge to Skinner's voice. 

Mulder looked from Scully to Skinner then back again. "Um..." 

"Yes. He is," Scully said firmly. She knew that if left to his own devices, Mulder would either consume a bag of sunflower seeds and root beer in front of the boob-tube or grab a burger in a drive-thru. 

Neither option was acceptable. And neither were the on-going hostilities between the two men. Enough was enough. 

"Um... Sure. If that's okay with you, that is... Sir." He looked doubtful. 

"I'm sure it is," Scully said. 

Skinner and Mulder both looked at her. Neither man seemed terribly impressed with the arrangements. 

"It will do you both good to eat out together." 

The looks they gave her went from doubtful to incredulous. 

"I don't think..." began Mulder. 

"Maybe I'd better just..." Skinner added. 

"No!" exasperated, Scully stamped her foot. "I'm tired of this! Tired of making excuses for you, Walter... Tired of reassuring you, Mulder. 

Enough, GodDAMnit!" 

Stunned, both men stared at her in silence. She glared at them in turn. "D'you hear me? I'm tired." 

"Okaaaay." Mulder eased himself out of her reach. "A meal. The three of us... I can do that." He glanced at Skinner cautiously. "How about you, sir?" 

Skinner nodded, shrugging into his jacket. "Agent Scully's right. 

Enough is enough. I'd be happy for you to join us." 

"You would?" The look of surprise that crossed Mulder's face would have made Scully laugh if it wasn't so sad. 

"Sure." Skinner graced the younger man with a tight smile. 

"Yeah," Mulder nodded. "Maybe it'll... You know..." He tailed off, unsure how to phrase it. 

"Smooth things over?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Maybe." 

"That's settled." Scully opened the door. "I know a great place." 

* * *

Chapter 5. 

Doggett picked at the meal. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but his appetite seemed to have taken a dislike to the surroundings. 

He glanced around him. The hall was full of noise, shouting men, crashing cutlery, and scraping chairs. The relentless racket was seriously getting on his nerves. 

There didn't seem to have been a moment's peace since he got here. 

Rebadow seemed intent on talking him into a coma and the rest of the animals in the zoo were incapable of maintaining any semblance of quiet. If he were ever to be locked away for more than a couple of weeks, he'd be a complete basket case. 

His fork poked his potatoes, lukewarm and lumpy. No way he was about to abuse his stomach with it, but at least the juice was cold. He swigged back on the carton, smiling inside at how that would irritate Skinner. 

"Hey." 

Someone was standing behind him. Doggett put the carton down carefully. 

"I said, hey!" His chair was kicked. 

Tensing, Doggett curled his hand around his plastic knife. 

"Yo' in my seat, man." 

"That so?" He deliberately didn't turn around. 

"Yeah. Move y'ass." 

Slowly sucking the food from his back teeth, Doggett leaned back and put a deliberate drawl in his voice. "Well, I don't see your name on it." 

The other men at the table fell silent. Doggett stared ahead watching their reactions, wondering if this was the way to go about acclimate himself. Too late to second guess that, now. 

The man behind him sputtered in disbelief. "Wha' you say, fool?" 

Doggett moistened his lips. "You heard." 

Seeing the man opposite flinch, hearing the sudden intake of breath, Doggett quickly shoved the chair back and sprang up just as a loaded dinner-tray sailed past his face. Two seconds later and he'd have been sucking soup through a straw for a month. 

There was less than a heartbeat to register the fact that he was pissing off an absolutely huge black guy with arms the size of his own damned thighs, before realizing it was way too late to back off now. 

He plunged forward, his outstretched fists striking the man in the chest, pushing him backwards, and caught off balance, the man staggered back into the small crowd at his heels. 

He stood up straight. Doggett didn't much care for what he saw in those eyes. He swallowed. 

The man opened his mouth and screamed. 

"You stupid motherfucker!" 

* * *

Chapter 6 

"You need to eat, sir." 

"I am, Agent Scully." 

She looked pointedly at the half-eaten cannelloni. 

Skinner smiled. "Yes, mom. And it's Walter, off duty." He stabbed another forkful and put it in his mouth, raising his eyebrows as if to say, see? 

Scully nodded, satisfied, watching while he chewed, as if suspecting he'd spit it out. 

Swallowing, Skinner sighed. "I'm eating, okay? You don't have to watch." 

"Maybe." 

Across the table, Mulder grunted. "See what I have to put up with? 

It's like having the food police around you." 

Scully turned. "If you had anything like a sensible diet, Mulder, I wouldn't need to nag." 

"I eat sensibly," he protested. 

"No, you don't," Skinner said, swallowing another forkful. 

Throwing his napkin down, Mulder rolled his eyes. "This from the man who's being force-fed!" 

Skinner paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. 

Scully sighed. "I nag because I care," she said, looking at both men in turn. 

Skinner had the grace to looke abashed, Mulder just grunted and fiddled with his plate. 

"Thank you," Skinner said quietly. 

Nodding, Sully smiled slightly. "John wouldn't be pleased if I allowed you to get sick." 

At the mention of the name, Skinner's eyes dropped to his plate. He placed his fork down. 

He had been adamant not to let his thoughts turn morose, but it felt like the second John was out of his sight, all he could do was focus on the negative. He hated the whole idea of Doggett being in a place like Oz. Hated it. 

Scully reached across to touch his hand. "Walt, relax. He'll be fine." 

Skinner didn't reply. Under the table, Scully kicked Mulder's leg. 

She could do with some back-up. 

"Yeah," he said, scowling at her vicious prompt. "Doggett knows how to look after himself." He reached to rub his shin. "Trust me, I know." 

As Skinner and Scully both turned to look at him, Mulder colored up. 

"I don't think I want you alluding..." Skinner began. 

"I wasn't..." 

Skinner made a strange warning noise in the back of his throat. 

It had taken him a long time to be able to look at Mulder without wanting to punch his teeth down his throat. Every dull throbbing ache in his arm was a reminder of what Mulder had done in the showers. Or rather what he had wnated to do, which was worse, because his imagination insisted on supplying images of a naked Mulder, which was distressing enough in itself, without the added aspect of a dripping wet Doggett in the mix. 

Sitting in meetings staring across a table at him during the last six months had been a trial; a battle of nerves he wasn't sure he had entirely conquered. Doggett had begged him to let it go, and he had lied to his lover on more than one occasion that he was over it. 

Truth was, had they been in any other profession, he could have taken Mulder out behind the parking lot and made his feelings about invading his territory perfectly clear. As it was, he hadn't had any completion and Mulder knew it, creeping around him on his belly like some damned subseviant mongrel. 

It was driving him crazy. 

"What I meant was..." Mulder ploughed on. "Well...He's a trained officer. He knows what to do." 

"Uh-huh." 

The two men stared at one another. Skinner briefly contemplated reaching over to crush Mulder's throat, the thought of being sent to jail for it, coming in second to how it would upset Scully. He rubbed his eyes. Damn. This was going to give him an ulcer. Maybe he should just follw John's advice and let it go. 

Eventually, he sighed, forcing himself to relax. 

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I guess I'm just a little on edge right now." 

"Okay. No problem." 

Skinner stared into the table lamp. "John's tough. And he's sensible. 

I trust him not to take any stupid risks." 

* * *

Chapter 7 

Doggett had a split second to wonder exactly how badly he was going to be hurt, then his eyes widened as the man threw himself across the space separating them, grabbing at his throat, knees sharp, viciously seeking out his balls. 

He tried to grab the arms as they came for him, knowing if he allowed this man to get a good grip, it would be all over before he got chance to get another punch in. 

There was chewing gum on the man's breath, hissing into his face. 

The two of them fell back onto the dining table, crushing the remains of Doggett's meal. 

Letting go of the big forearms, Doggett started swinging punches, recalling every fight he'd ever been in, all his years of training and all the boxing techniques his father had pummeled into him. 

His tray was digging into his back. He wanted to reach around and pull it out, but his head was thumping against the table-top under a rain of blows that were rapidly stunning him. 

All this was for sitting in someone's seat? Black spots danced behind his eyes; he couldn't breathe, squashed under several hundred pounds of sweating, furious flesh. A fist caught him across the face and blood blossomed on his tongue. 

That broke the spell of his training, the restraint of a civilized upbringing. With a hoarse cry, he brought up the hand that held the plastic knife and slammed it against the side of the man's head, over and over again. 

The man leaned back with a howl clutching his head, easing up the pressure on Doggett's throat just enough for him to land a decent follow-up punch in the grimacing face. 

There was a spray of blood as the lip under his knuckles split open. 

Doggett screwed his eyes up in disgust, clamping his mouth shut. 

Bringing his knees up, he pushed the soles of his feet against the man's belly and shoved hard, sending him staggering backwards. 

He could hear the assembled crowd roar at his escape, but didn't stop to bask in their approval as he scrambled over the table, landing on the floor in an undignified heap. 

Somewhere, a whistle was blowing. Doggett could just about hear it over the pounding of his head and the harsh whistle of his breath coursing through his abused throat. 

He held the front of his neck as he struggled to his feet. A surge of black uniforms signaled the arrival of the guards. Relief flooded his body. 

Fuckin' hell! Hardly been here long enough to draw breath and he was already in trouble. 

"Back the fuck off!" The whistle blew; bodies were roughly grabbed and shoved aside. 

"What the hell's going on?!" 

Coughing, Doggett stepped forward to say something and found himself grabbed and slammed face-first onto the table. 

"Don't move, scumbag!" 

Doggett's eyes widened. A woman? 

"I was just... " 

Something hit him in the kidney, hard enough to make his eyes water. "Don't say a fuckin' word, sweetcheeks." 

Doggett held his tongue, his back throbbing. He stared at the spattered remains of his meal, feeling a trickle of blood working its way out of his mouth. Sharp fingers held him down by the scruff of his neck. 

Jesus Christ. 

Looks like he'd made a major mistake. HE was the number one guy he should be watching out for. 

* * *

Chapter 8. 

"I'll be fine. Honestly." Skinner stood in the parking-lot of the restaurant, holding his hands out in front of him. 

"Are you sure you don't want company?" 

He shook his head. "No, but thank you. I'm not very good company right now. I think I'm just going to straighten up the place, then go to bed early." 

There was a snort from Mulder, leaning up against the car. "Like your place is gonna be a mess, what with you and Mister Tidy living there." 

Skinner looked at the lounging man, his skin and grinning teeth a sickly yellow from the light of the street lamp. He wondered if that kind of lighting did anyone any favors. 

Maybe it did for him, tonight. Might disguise the fact he was on the edge of throwing up. 

"Agent Doggett doesn't live with me, Mulder," he said tightly. 

Again with the snort. "Yeah right." 

Skinner sighed and repeated the liturgy, fighting the urge to walk over to the man and simply punch his teeth down his throat. "John has his own home." 

Mulder nodded. "Sure. Whatever." Digging in his pocket, he fished out a sunflower seed and popped it in his mouth, oblivious to the look on Skinner's face. 

Scully leaned over and spoke quietly, as close to Mulder's ear as she could. "Get in the car, Mulder." 

"Why?" 

"We're done here." 

"But..." 

"Get in the car. Now." 

Sighing with all the panache of an Oscar-winning drama-queen, Mulder flounced off the hood of the car and went to get in. 

"God... You're just such a control freak, Scully." He waved a hand. "See you tomorrow, sir. Have a nice time tidying." The car door slammed on anything Skinner might have said. 

Scully turned to the big man. "I'm sorry." 

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "I know. You don't have to be." 

"I feel responsible." 

"I know." He looked down at his feet. "I appreciate your efforts tonight." He toed a cigarette butt. "It's kind of you to think of me." He smiled slightly. "And it's good of you to try to sort things out between Mulder and me, too." 

"Nonsense." 

Skinner looked up at her brusque tone. 

"Mulder aside, you're a friend. So is John. Friends look out for one another. Friends care about each other, Walter." 

He reached out and touched her arm. "Thanks." His fingers grasped hers and squeezed. 

"You'll try and get some sleep, yes?" She peered up at him. "He'll be back before you know it. And you'll be no good to him utterly exhausted." 

Skinner hoped the lamplight hid the color that he knew was racing into his cheeks. Sometimes the fact that she knew exactly what kind of relationship he and John enjoyed made him go warm with embarrassment. And he could hardly believe he'd kissed Doggett like that in front of her. Although the smile she'd given him as John walked away had reassured him a little. 

"I'll try," he said. 

"Do more than try," she scolded. 

Laughing gently, he found his keys and started to walk to his car. "Mulder's right about one thing," he said. 

"Oh?" 

"You are relentless." 

Scully smiled. "Better believe it. I'll see you tomorrow, Walter. 'Night." 

* * *

Chapter 9. 

"Just what the hell was going on down there?" Tim McManus shouted. 

He had stopped pacing long enough to throw his pen down on his desk. 

"This motherfucker was in ma' place, man." 

"And you feel this gives you permission to start a fight in the dinner-hall?" 

"You bet yo ass!" 

"Jesus, Malachi." Lifting a hand to the guard, McManus shook his head. "You're already on your last warning..." He pointed to the door. "Take him to the Hole." 

"Awww... man!!" 

"Shut up, Malachi. I don't want to hear another word. I'm just about sick of your voice. Get him out." He sighed. "Ten days." 

"McManus..." 

**"OUT!"**

Doggett watched as the big man was dragged out of the office kicking and yelling. Obviously, the Hole wasn't a great place to be. He wondered how long he was going to get in there. 

"You..." Shuffling papers, McManus searched for his admission slip. 

"Costello," Doggett said, trying to be helpful. 

The baton hit him across the back of his knees. 

"Fuck!" He stumbled, clutching his leg. 

Behind him, the woman officer pulled him back by the neck of his tee shirt. "Funny...I didn't hear you being asked anything." 

McManus frowned. "Okay, Howell, that's enough." He found the paper and scanned it back and front. "Costello, Jack. Fifteen years. No possibility of parole for eight." His face didn't betray his thoughts on either the fictitious crime or the sentence. "Not a great start, is it, Jack?" 

Glancing behind at Howell, Doggett shook his head. "I guess not," he muttered, wary of another blow. 

"So..." 

McManus folded his arms and leaned on the desk. Doggett watched him, trying to keep tabs on the woman behind him. His knee throbbed almost as badly as where she'd hit him on the back. 

"Tell me, Jack. D'you think you're a tough guy?" 

Doggett thought carefully about what to say. This man didn't know he was a Fed. As far as McManus was concerned, he was just a low-life scumbag who had already been more trouble than he was worth. Much as a trip to solitary might keep him safe, he couldn't find his target and do his job, locked away on his own. 

He looked into McManus' eyes. 

"I get by." 

"Well, I tell you, unless you smarten up a bit, you're not gonna 'get by' in here. I've seen bigger and meaner guys than you come through Oz..." He stepped forward and closed in on Doggett. "And none of them are half as big and mean as they thought after a spell in the Hole. I've got my eye on you, Costello. One more episode like this and you're gonna be seeing the inside of there, first hand. Am I making myself clear?" 

Doggett met the man's stare. "Crystal." 

They eyeballed one another for a moment longer. "Glad to hear it." 

McManus nodded at Howell. "Get out him the hell of here." 

Turning, Doggett allowed Howell to pull him out of the office and down the stairs without a struggle. That went better than he'd thought. In fact he'd gotten off without punishment at all. 

Not bad, considering. 

They clattered down the stairs into a wide corridor. He absently probed his mouth with his finger. The cut had just about stopped bleeding. All his teeth seemed to be in place. Not a bad result all round. 

He had almost reached the end of the corridor when the fingers on his arm dug in cruelly and he was pulled back. 

"Hey, Costello..." Howell turned him to face her. "You gotta know something." 

Doggett scowled. "Yeah? An' what's that?" 

Howell leaned forward, pushing him roughly up against the wall. 

Doggett braced himself for another blow from the stick. It didn't appear. Instead she leaned even closer, her breath wafting on his face. 

He wasn't the type to think about punching a woman, but there was something about this one that made his hackles stand up. 

"I like fresh meat," she whispered. Her baton snaked between Doggett's legs, sliding up to meet his crotch. 

His eyes widened. 

"You and me are gonna get better acquainted real soon, Jackie-boy." 

Holding his breath, Doggett kept his eyes on hers, not backing down, not allowing her to see the fear that was crawling up his spine. 

There was no-one about. She could say he attacked her, she could do anything. No-one was going to take his side against hers, not after what he'd just been involved with. 

He said nothing. Did nothing. Stood perfectly still while her baton caressed between his legs. 

She nudged high up on his thigh, encouraging his legs further apart. 

After a moment, he obeyed, parting his feet a touch more. 

A triumphant smile spread over Howell's face. 

"That's my boy." The wooden stick rubbed against his balls for a second, then pulled away. 

A rough shove between his shoulder-blades and he was pushed away towards the pods. Glancing back at her grinning face, Doggett knew that wasn't going to be the end of it, not by a long way. 

He just had to make sure he was never caught out alone with her. 

And there he was thinking it was the other prisoners that he was going to have to worry about. 

* * *

Chapter 10. 

Skinner sighed as he put away the cut-glass whiskey decanter. 

He told himself he was only going to have one drink and already he'd had two more than that. It hadn't helped at all. He thought it might have taken the edge of missing Doggett, but he'd been wrong. Eating out with the others had, though strangely. Even though he missed having John at his side, being with Dana and Mulder had helped a little, even Mulder was his usual irritating self. But being irritated had taken his mind off other things that seemed determined to color his world a dull gray; however now he was alone in his apartment, there were bits of Doggett lying all around, taunting him. 

He'd discovered a pair of discarded socks that had been forgotten in the throes of the previous night's passion, stuffed under the arm of his chair and it had in turn made him both smile and frown. He balled them up for the laundry. 

How was Doggett feeling on his first night in prison? Was he safe? 

Skinner hadn't like the whole set-up. It seemed half-assed to him, that only Glynn knew about the operation. With no-one to look out for him, would Doggett be able to keep from being swallowed whole by a system that was designed for the worst criminal element the country could produce? 

It didn't bear thinking about, but that was all he seemed to be able to do; think about it. 

In a haze, he showered, brushed his teeth and got into bed. True, Doggett had his own place. True he didn't live here full-time. But fact was, he spent so much time here, it made no difference. 

Mulder was right, Doggett lived with him. 

Punching his pillow to make a dent, Skinner flopped down in a flurry of duvet. 

He would not think about John. 

He would not think about anything. 

An hour later he was still staring at the ceiling, shoving each passing thought of Doggett out of his head as quickly as they crept in. 

Turning his head, he could just about make out the empty pillow next to him. 

Shit. 

This was hopeless. Reaching out, he snagged Doggett's pillow and curled up to it, wrapping his arms tightly around it. Sighing, he inhaled the scent in the material. 

Doggett's smell lingered. 

Not caring that it might be considered a little strange for a fifty-year-old to go to sleep hugging someone else's pillow, Skinner shut his eyes and lay there breathing in, finding small comfort in the scent his lover had left behind. 

He figured it would be a while before he could get to sleep, but within minutes, he had drifted off. 

* * *

Chapter 11. 

Doggett lay on his back staring at the underside of Rebadow's bunk. 

Lights out had come about two hours ago and he hadn't moved or spoken since. 

Rebadow, on the other hand, had been chatty enough, telling Doggett more than he'd ever wanted to know about his family, the prison routine and life in general. If it hadn't been just a little bit comforting to hear someone else's voice, Doggett might have begged him to shut up. 

As it was, the sound of his voice had kept thoughts of Skinner at bay, and more importantly, thoughts of Officer Howell away. 

The soft clank of the pod door as it locked had shaken him more deeply than he had imagined. The abstract idea of being shut away wasn't a patch on the reality. 

This small, impersonal space was where he was going to have to sleep, shit and live for the duration of this case suddenly seemed horribly claustrophobic. 

Locked up with a stranger. 

God... Despite the years in the Marines, sleeping in bunkhouses and camps, the thought of it gave him the willies. 

"Sleep well." Rebadow's voice floated down from near the ceiling. 

"I doubt it," Doggett muttered, turning over to try and get comfy. 

The bed above creaked. "You'll settle in okay. Eventually." 

The temptation was immense to snap at Rebadow and tell him not to worry, he wasn't staying. He buried his face in the pillow and screwed his eyes up. 

Damn. 

It smelled wrong. All institutionalized and harsh. Not a hint of cologne or musk from another body. Sighing, he turned on to the other side. The side he normally lay on, spooned behind Skinner. He opened his eyes. No. This wouldn't do. He turned over again. 

Focus on the job, agent. Focus. He frowned into the dim light, wondering how he was going to find, and get close to the man he was here for. 

Who was this man, Chris Keller, he wondered? 

He hoped he wasn't going to be some crazy-assed crack-head. Just a straight-forward murderer would do. Just so he could do his job and get out of this madhouse. 

The upper bunk shifted. "Are you okay?" 

"I suppose so." 

"Having trouble getting to sleep?" 

Doggett sighed. "I guess." 

"It took me years to get used to this." 

Doggett suppressed a shudder at the thought of 'years'. He supposed a man could get used to just about anything, given time. But he'd rather not find out how. 

* * *

Chapter 12. 

From the moment Doggett opened his tired eyes, the morning was a nightmare. 

Roll-call was held on the landing outside the pod, with him in only his underwear and tee shirt, rubbing his eyes and yawning. It had felt like five minutes since he actually got to sleep. 

He'd stumbled back into the pod and fell onto the bed, wondering if he could get another fifteen minutes of sleep in. 

"You might want to get your towel and razor and come to the showers early," Rebadow said. 

Doggett groaned, covering his eyes. 

"Well, you suit yourself, but it's always quietest before breakfast, and considering your little adventure yesterday, you might want to consider that." 

Through narrowed eyes, Doggett watched the older man leave. Damn. He was right. Might be wise to keep a low profile for a while. At least while he got to know the ropes and found out where the target was. 

Sighing, he pulled himself up and dug around for his things. 

It didn't take him long to find the showers, he could have done it blindfold, listening to the singing that was echoing off the damp walls. Someone was a big Doors fan, he smiled, stripping quickly and hanging his towel on a hook. His bare skin goosed up, despite the steam. 

There was a spare faucet at the end of the line and he made his way over to it, careful to keep his eyes on the floor. He had the feeling that the locker-room etiquette of not making eye contact would be paramount in this place. 

He passed men of all shapes and sizes, black ones, Hispanic ones, white ones. All soaking wet, all ignoring each other, all the best in the system and the worst America had to offer. 

He stuck his head under the water and began to lather up. At least the water was hot and the soap plentiful. It felt good to get clean. 

"Hey..." 

Shit. Someone was addressing him. Doggett wiped the soap from his eyes and squinted. 

"What?" 

"You the new guy? The one that got Malachi sent to the hole?" 

Doggett nodded cautiously. "Uh-huh." 

The man under the shower on his left was impressively built. Not a scrap of spare flesh. His chest muscles bulged as he ran a hand over them. Doggett maintained eye-contact, determined not toe stare. 

A sudden grin spread over the wet face. "That's cool, man. 'Bout time that mutherfucka went down!" 

Doggett just nodded, wondering if he had just made a friend, or someone who was going to get him hurt later. In spite of his better judgment, he watched as the guy rubbed a handful of soap into a muscular chest. 

"So what's y'name?" 

"D..." Doggett snapped his mouth shut. Shit! He made a fuss of wiping the water from his face, recovering himself. 

"Costello," he said. "Jack Costello." 

The man rolled his eyes. "God! Another damned Italian. Just what Oz needs." A soapy hand stuck a finger out under Doggett's nose. "You are a wop, yeah?" 

Doggett stared at the hand. 

"Cause you don' exactly look like one, y'know what I mean?" 

This was more than a little surreal. Stark naked and being quizzed about his ethnicity. 

Clearly, he had a quick decision to make. A choice about which side he was going to be on. 

He suddenly decided he wasn't sure he wanted to be partisan with anyone in particular. 

"I'm not." 

"What?" 

"Italian." 

"You gotta be kiddin' me... With a name like that!" 

Doggett shrugged. 

Careful, John, he thought. Now was not the time to piss anyone off. 

He'd already gotten one inmate sent to the Hole, and he was damned sure the rest of the black community wasn't going to take kindly to that. He didn't need a whole new set of enemies. 

Not so soon in the game, not so soon in the morning and definitely not before breakfast. 

Doggett shrugged again. "I was abandoned as a child," he lied. "Some joker at the children's home was a big fan of black and white comedies." He pulled a face. 

"Your shittin' me?" 

Doggett bit the inside of his cheek. The guy was standing open-mouthed, the soap from his hair trickling into his mouth. The urge to laugh was overwhelming. 

"Nah. S'true," he lied. "The other kid brought in earlier that week got called Abbott." 

Doggett turned back to the water and stuck his face in the stream. 

Well, looked like his sense of the ridiculous was still intact. 

Whatever possessed him to make that up? He scrubbed at his hair so his face was hidden. Skinner would love this, when he told him. 

"Fuck me..." The man shook his head sadly. "God, that really sucks, man." 

"Doesn't it?" Doggett shrugged. 

"Sucks, but it's kinda funny, too." 

Oh, shit, he was going to have to get out of here real quick, before he fell over with hysterics. 

He quickly soaped the rest of his body down, trying not to think of the other man standing so close as he washed between his legs. Just like the gym, John, he told himself. Just like the gym. 

Finishing, he turned the water off. 

He was hungry. Didn't think he would be, but the lack of dinner last night was telling on his belly. It growled indignantly. A quick shave then into the dining hall. 

The man next to him turned around to shut off the water, showing Doggett his left shoulder in the process. The unhappy face of the crucified Christ gazed back at him. 

Christopher Keller. 

Shit! Shit! Shit! 

He'd been having a Goddamned conversation with the target. Doggett opened his mouth to say something, anything to deepen the connection with the other man, but he was already moving off, shouting at someone, laughing and snapping his towel like he was in the world's strangest locker-room. 

Shit. 

Wrapping the towel around himself, Doggett picked out a sink and ran the water to shave, thinking furiously, would he recognize him again with his tattoo covered? He frowned, trying to recall the face. 

Watching the bowl fill up, he became aware of someone standing very close to him. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the mirror. 

A black man stood at his shoulder. Doggett resisted the urge to sigh. 

It was never-ending. 

Was this pay-back for yesterday? 

"What?" he snapped. "You want somethin'?" 

"Uh-huh." 

This guy wasn't as well-built as Malachi, but had muscles that were so defined they looked cut from ebony. Wet dreadlocks hung in curtains. 

Doggett tilted his chin up. "Yeah?" He twisted the water off and picked up the soap. "What?" 

The man stared at the side of Doggett's face, eyes unblinking, not moving. It was seriously unnerving. He could feel the trickle of water down his face, running out of his hair. His mouth was dry. 

Hungry, tired and more than a little cranky, he wasn't in the mood for another confrontation. Certainly wasn't in the mood for another helping of pain. 

The man slowly held out his hand. 

"I want that." 

Doggett stared at the other man. What was he talking about? He knew his face must have some stupid blank expression on it. 

"Huh?" 

"That." 

Looking down, Doggett thought for one crazy moment he meant his towel. Then he realized he was holding something in his hand. He held it up. 

"This?" He had to be kidding. It was just some crappy plastic thing the hacks gave out. Everyone got one. He looked at the little item in his hand. 

"You want this?" he repeated, incredulous. 

The man's hand stayed outstretched. "Give it to me." 

Jesus! What the fuck? 

"No," he scowled. It might not be much, but it was his, goddamnit. He hadn't even had a chance to use it yet. The other man stepped even closer. 

"Give." The one word seemed to hold a wealth of threats. 

Shaking his head, Doggett heaved a big sigh. Fuck. He didn't want to get into this. He looked at the plastic razor, then up into the mirror at his reflection. Was it worth it? Was it worth getting a thumping from this guy? 

His tongue probed the small cut on the inside of his cheek, still sore from the night before. 

It was only a razor. He could live without shaving while he was in here. Might be quite a nice change, not having to bother. 

"Here y'go, big guy," he said, grinning and tossing the razor over and walking away. The black man fumbled slightly, taken by surprise. 

"Knock yourself out, y'hear?" 

* * *

Chapters 13-15. 

Breakfast was thankfully uneventful. Doggett ate as much as he was allowed, making up for the night before. He sat alone, through choice as much as anything else. The men seemed to eat in stages, according to their shower routines. He was grateful for that. It gave him a chance to get the food inside him without threats of violence. 

Smothering a belch, he sat back in his chair to look around the room. 

Much as he cherished the moments respite from contact with the others, he really needed to find Keller again. 

He dumped his tray and wandered out into the communal room. Rebadow seemed to have found someone else to talk to death. Maybe he had turned out to be a disappointment to the older man. 

Shame. He talked way too much, was weird as hell, but on the whole, seemed okay enough. But then, you never could tell. 

Hands in his jeans pockets, Doggett walked between the tables, looking for Chris Keller whilst trying not to eyeball anyone in particular. 

"Hey..." 

Doggett looked up. A guard was standing on the stairs. He pointed at his chest. 

"Yeah, dipshit, you. Come here." 

As slowly as he could, Doggett wandered over. He could tell his tardiness irritated the guard. 

"What?" he said. 

"Come with me." 

Doggett frowned. "Where we goin'?" 

"Just shut up and follow me." 

Wary of another encounter with Officer Howell, Doggett followed the hack at a distance. No way he wanted to be caught in any corners with that crazy bitch. He wondered which shifts she had. 

"Where we goin'?" he asked again after the third corner and second set of stairs. 

"Peter Marie wants to see you." 

Doggett frowned. Who the hell was Peter Marie? The Chief's name was Glynn. The next in command was McManus. So who was this guy Peter? 

And if he was an inmate, why was a guard coming to get him? It didn't make sense. 

"Who is he?" he asked. 

The guard laughed. "You'll see." he knocked on a glass door and opened up, waving Doggett ahead of him. Be back to get you later. 

Have fun." 

Cautiously peering around the door, Doggett scanned the room. A man sat with his back to him, typing on a computer. He turned. 

"Hi. You must be Jack. Come in, take a seat. Pete won't be long." 

Doggett felt his heart lurch in his chest as if it wanted to climb out and run away. His mouth dropped open in anticipation of its escape and a small noise crept up his throat. 

Years slid away in a screech of white noise, leaving a name on his lips and a shortage of breath in his lungs. 

Rudy. Rudy Wallace. 

He took a faltering step into the room, his arms already starting to move up to take the other man in a hug. Oh, shit... Rudy. 

His rational mind kicked in. No; that was impossible. He'd held Rudy in his arms while he bled to death. Cradled him, wiping the blood from his chin as it poured out of his mouth. 

Shit. 

Doggett stared at the other man, trying to remember how to breathe properly. 

He sat down slowly, wary of the emotions churning through him. He wanted to speak, to say the name that rested in his mouth, but he didn't trust his voice. 

"I'm Beecher." The man smiled slightly. "Hi." 

Doggett cleared his throat, self-consciously. "Hi." 

This wasn't Rudy. He knew that; but he still had to blink a couple of times to clear the image of uniforms and dust from his eyes. Just a freaky co-incidence, that's all. He took a deep breath to clear his head. 

"Your first night, huh?" 

Doggett nodded silently. 

"It gets better." 

There must have been something written all over his face, because Beecher laughed and turned his chair around properly to face him. 

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but believe me. It does." He shrugged. "Eventually." 

"If I live that long," Doggett muttered. 

Nodding, Beecher crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. I heard about you and Malachi. You won't be popular with some people over that. He was a major dealer." 

Doggett tried not to look too dismayed. He knew it went on in prisons. But it was just his luck to run into a major player so soon. 

"But on the up-side, the Aryans will love you to bits." There was something bitter in Beecher's voice. 

"Terrific." he said. "Just what I need." 

"Ah... I dunno. Could be worse." 

"You think?" Doggett looked at him. The fair headed man laughed again, surprising Doggett. 

"Hey - always gonna be someone in here who hates you, Jack." 

"Yeah? That's a real comfort. Thanks." 

Beecher's smile faded. "What? You think you're any different from the rest of the scumbags who deserve to be in here?" 

Doggett tilted his head on one side. Quick sense of humor like Rudy, but this man had a sharp edge about him that hinted at hard core. 

That was something his friend hadn't ever had. Rudy's soul had been pure sunshine. A little perverted in outlook in some areas, but shining and sweet, nevertheless. Beecher might look like Rudy's twin brother, but that was where the similarity ended. He wondered how long this man been in Oz; and what for. 

He shrugged. 

"Take a look around, pal. Prison is full of innocent men, didn't you know that?" 

"So they say..." Beecher leaned forward, his voice softening.. "And what about you? Are you an innocent, Jack?" 

Doggett wondered if there was a hidden agenda to those words. Was he trying to pry? Perhaps he was digging to see if Doggett was going to bite. 

"I don't know," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You'd have to ask my ex-wife about that." 

Beecher laughed again, his good humor seemingly restored. 

"Hey, I hear you. No man with an ex-wife is innocent." 

Doggett smiled. Maybe he could stand to make a friend or two, after all. 

The office door opened. Doggett turned, and felt his mouth open a touch at the sight of a tiny frizzy-haired lady of middle years enter. He stood up instinctively. Belatedly, he wondered if any other man in this place would have done that. He hoped he hadn't given himself away. 

The woman smiled broadly at Beecher. Doggett liked the way her eyes scrunched up. 

"Thank you Tobias. Pleasee excuse us; I'll talk to you later." She turned as Beecher left the room. 

"Hello, I'm Sister Peter Marie." She held her hand out to him, and with a brief thought that if he was busted, he might as well be busted all the way, Doggett took it, shaking briefly. 

"Hi," he said. 

He watched her take the seat around the other side of the table. A nun. Well, that explained the name. 

"So you're Jack," she said, putting glasses on her nose. 

"I guess." 

She smiled again. "You guess? Is that an identity crisis we have here?" 

Doggett smiled despite himself. "No. I mean... You know. Yeah. I am." 

"Glad to hear it." All-business-like, she opened a folder on her desk. Doggett tried not to wince, knowing what she was reading about him. He found himself wishing she knew the truth. Wishing he could say something so she wouldn't think poorly of him. He was mildly surprised to find that he didn't want to disappoint her. 

"I want you to know that I'm here for you, Jack. If you need to talk." She spread her hands out over the folder. "About anything. 

Everything." 

"Yeah?" 

"Of course." 

"I'm not Catholic." 

"That doesn't matter. I'm here for every denomination." 

He raised an eyebrow. "What about the atheists?" 

She smiled back. "I'm available for them, too." 

"You say that to all the boys?" he teased. 

Laughing, she took her glasses off. "Yes, I do, actually." 

"Aww. I'm kinda disappointed I'm not special." 

Doggett was amazed at what was coming out of his mouth. Was he trying to flirt with a nun? For God's sake, he'd only been in this place a night... He instantly cringed at that thought. 

"All the men in here are special to me, Jack. It's both my job and my vocation. To listen. To help. You can come in here and talk to me at most any time." 

He nodded. "Okay." 

"I mean it." 

"Fair enough." 

"So... How are you settling in today?" She raised her eyebrows. "I heard about last night's little..." 

"Problem?" he supplied. He shrugged. "It's nothing. But I don't take to being pushed around." 

"Clearly." She peered at him, and he fought the urge to squirm. "Malachi isn't a small man. Yet you came out on top. Do you have a temper, Jack?" 

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Not especially. No more than most." 

"No more than most in here, or in general?" 

She was good. He had to give her that. He allowed the smile to broaden. 

"Touche." He inclined his head. 

"You didn't answer the question." 

"You always this tenacious?" he asked, no longer caring about fitting in to a cliche. 

"Yes." 

Doggett nodded. "Then I would say no more than general." 

"Okay. That I can work with." She leaned back in her chair. "Tell you what, Jack. You keep out of trouble for the rest of the week and when you come back in here, we can talk about getting you a job in Oz that befits your obvious intelligence. Deal?" 

Doggett regarded her carefully. Had she got the measure of him, or did she know something she wasn't letting on about? 

"Job?" 

"Yes. Most of the inmates work in some capacity. We find it helps with self-esteem." 

"Oh." 

"You have a problem with working?" 

He smiled again. "Not at all. I'd like to do something constructive. 

Might help pass the time." 

"Good. Then we'll see how things go, then, shall we?" She stood up. "Same time, next week?" 

Doggett stood. "Sure. I'll look forward to it, Sister." On impulse, he held his hand out to her, pleased when she took it and shook. 

"Don't forget I'm here if you need me." 

"I'll remember that, Sister." 

* * *

Chapter 16. 

Placing another barely-read folder on the growing pile in his in-tray, Skinner sighed and checked his watch. Quarter past four, way too early to go home. Too late to tackle the mountain of paperwork he'd been shuffling around all day. If he carried on like this for the whole time Doggett was undercover, he'd be out of a job. 

Four days and counting. 

It felt more like four weeks. 

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was telling on him, despite Kim plying him with copious amounts of coffee. He glanced at the mug on his blotter. Was it too early to get another one? 

Someone knocked at the door. He blinked. How long had he been staring into an empty mug? 

He cleared his throat. 

"Come." 

He hooked his glasses back over his ears as Kim entered. 

"I thought you might like these, sir. Gail from accounts brought them in." She approached his desk bearing a plate. Two fat cookies sat on a napkin. 

He glanced up at her, his mouth watering, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

"And what makes you think I eat cookies?" 

Kim grinned. "Oh, just the empty packets I find in the filing cabinet and the crumbs in the reports, sir." 

Skinner lifted an eyebrow. "Are you looking for a job as an Agent, ma'am?" 

Kim laughed. "Not likely. I value my sanity." She made to move the plate away. "So I take it you don't want these, then?" 

Lightening-fast, his hand shot out to grab the plate. "A-ah. I don't think so. I'm going to enjoy these." 

"I hope so." 

There was a long pause. Long enough for Skinner to look up from the cookie he had started to eat. He raised his eyebrows. 

Kim blushed, making him wonder what was going on inside that red head. 

"I hope you don't think I'm intruding..." She fidgeted. 

Swallowing, he nodded. "Go on." 

"But I noticed you've been really..." The blush grew. "Well... Sort of distracted lately." 

Shit. 

The crumbs were suddenly very dry in his throat. He swallowed with difficulty. 

"Oh?" 

"It's just... I mean..." She was obviously struggling. Looked as if she wanted the floor to open up and devour her. Either that or wished she'd never opened her mouth. 

"It's just... Are you okay, sir?" she finished all in a rush. 

Placing the remains of the second cookie on the plate, Skinner sighed. He wiped his mouth on the napkin, giving himself time to think. She didn't know about Doggett. No-one in the Bureau except Mulder and Scully knew, he hoped. But she obviously noticed something was wrong. He had to give her points for that, however irritating it was to be so transparent. 

"I'm fine, Kim," he lied, keeping his eyes on the napkin screwed up in his hand. 

She didn't reply. He looked up into a face that said plainly, that she didn't believe him. 

Sighing more loudly, he shook his head. 

"You don't believe me." 

"No, I don't..." She said quietly. "Sir." 

"Oh." That was what you get for hiring good staff, he thought. "Well... I suppose I have been a little out of sorts'." He took a breath and told her a half-truth, hating himself for having to be less than honest, if only by omission. 

"It's a difficult time of year for me," he said. 

"Oh?" 

He looked at his desk, willing his voice to stay steady. "My... Um..." 

Shit. This was the first time he'd heard himself say this. He'd been trying to push it out of his head. He sighed. 

"It's the anniversary of my parent's death." He played with last few the crumbs on the plate. 

Shit. He wished John were here. He wished he could have been holding him the first time he said that out loud. 

Kim was instantly sympathetic. "Oh, goodness!" Her hand rose to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." 

Skinner pulled a half-smile. "That's because I didn't say." He shrugged. "I'm not much good at sharing my personal life." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" 

Skinner shook his head. "No. But thank you. I'll be okay." he straightened up. "Just takes time, I guess." 

"Yes." Kim's eyes were wide, bright. "I'm sorry. You must miss them very much." 

Skinner nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's okay," he lied. "I'll be okay." 

"Perhaps you should go home early?" 

He looked up, smiling a little. "Are you suggesting I should cut out?" 

She grinned, picking up the now empty plate. "Yes, why not. Take some time for yourself. Go for a walk..." 

She turned to leave, glancing behind as she did. "Maybe you should go be with the rest of your family." 

Raising a hand and nodding as she left, Skinner fought down the pressure in his throat. The rest of his family? He had no family. 

Only child of dead parents. 

And the only person in his life that he cared enough to want to be with right now, was locked away. 

Damn. 

* * *

Chapter 17. 

He was starting to get the hang of this, Doggett thought as he pulled on the tiny weight-lifting gloves on. Getting the hang of how to be a hard bastard. 

Eat alone, shower alone. Those were the golden rules of self-preservation. 

He walked up to the bench-press, working his neck this way and that. 

A co-incidence in the gym the previous night had brought him back in contact with Keller. A happy chance that had raised his hopes of getting the information sooner rather than later. 

Watching the other man for a chance to speak to him again, he'd been thrilled when he'd had asked him to spot while he lifted the bar. 

Seemed Chris Keller was a bit of a gym bunny. 

It was perfect. He couldn't have planned it better. They had talked, laughed at the lame jokes John had told and started what he hoped was the tentative beginning of a friendship. 

To his surprise, Keller was easy to get along with. He even found he like the man, to some extent. 

Wonders would never cease, he thought as he settled himself under the bar, pulling his shirt straight. He got along just fine with a man he'd have emptied his gun into a week ago. 

All he had to do now after discussing sports, beer and women, was to bring up the subject of judges, sentencing systems and hopefully the other man wouldn't be able to resist spilling his guts. 

Well, that was the plan, at least. He'd go over to the free-weight section in a while and hunt Keller out. 

Lifting, he grunted at the weight, enjoying the burn on his arms. At least he was getting some serious training in. He'd be buff when he got back home. Fit and ready to show Skinner how much he had missed him. 

He grinned as he pushed, thinking of what he had in mind for the other man. 

"What you grinning at, fool?" 

Two black hands gripped his. The weight slammed down into the rests. 

Startled, Doggett pushed against the bar. "What the hell!?" 

Above him, the owner of the hands glared down and hissed: "Shut yo' mouth, muthafucka!" 

Doggett heaved his arms up, to no avail. His hands were clamped to the bar. Panic fluttered in his belly. 

His head snapped right and left, searching for someone to help. Men went about their training, oblivious. No-one was taking any notice of what was going down in this little corner. 

"What d'ya want, man?" he asked, with the nasty feeling he knew exactly what this was about. 

Because of him, Malachi was in the Hole, not out and about, dealing. 

"Got sumthin' for you, whiteboy." 

Not bothering to ask what it was, Doggett started to struggle, trying to get his hands free, sitting up straighter. This did not look good, not good at all. 

The face leaned closer and with a purse of lips, jerked down and spat a wad of spit in Doggett's face. As he screwed his eyes up, a large knee snapped up and made contact with his balls, hard enough to wrench a choked scream out of him and curl his body up like a salted slug. 

Funny what had the time to go through your head, he thought to himself as his hands were released and his creased body was pulled from beneath the bar. 

It didn't hurt too much when he was thrown on the hard wooden floor, not in comparison to how his balls felt, anyway. 

He could smell bacon in the spit on his face and counted dust-bunnies under the machinery next to him as his face hit the floor. Then he could taste blood as his mouth split. 

Fists and feet rained down on him, jarring on bone and sinking into soft flesh. But immobilized by the raging pain in his balls, Doggett could only lie on the dusty floor and take the beating. 

* 

Skinner closed the microwave door and turned the dial. 

He hated microwave food, but without an appetite, he'd not been able to bring himself to order anything in. So microwave pizza it was. 

He leaned against the counter, wondering what Doggett had had to eat that day. What was food like in prison? 

There were so many questions that had never occurred to him before. 

Was he in a cell by himself? Did he get to go outside? He knew Doggett loved the outdoors, being locked away was going to be a tough thing for the other man. 

He sighed and rubbed his face. 

This was just ridiculous. Even the staff was noticing things. After Kim, the parking attendant had asked him if he was feeling okay, for god's sake! Did he really look as bad as other people obviously thought? 

How the hell had he managed before Doggett? 

The ding of the microwave sounded at the same time as his house phone. Glancing at the tired food on the plate, he reached for the receiver instead. 

"Skinner." 

"Hello, sir." 

Skinner nodded. "Hi, Agent Scully. What can I do for you?" 

"Not a lot..." There was a little huff of laughter. "I was just thinking about you." 

An eyebrow rose. "Really, Agent Scully? And why would that be?" 

The laughter grew, then tailed off. "Well, you know... wondering if you were..." She paused. 

"If I was?" 

If she allowed the word 'lonely' slip out of her mouth, he was going to put the phone straight down. 

"Um... In the mood for company, I suppose," she finished. 

Skinner closed his eyes. Yes. He was. But not the sort she could provide, however good her intentions. 

"I'm fine, Dana. Thank you." 

"Really?" 

"Really." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just heating myself some food, then I have some reports that I've been neglecting. 

My evening is pretty much mapped out." 

What he really wanted was to go to bed, but it was ridiculously early. 

"Okay, then. I'll leave you to it." 

"Okay." 

"See you at the budget meeting tomorrow? 

"Uh-huh." Shit, that was something Doggett said, not him. He screwed his face up. "I mean, yes. I'll be there." 

"Night, sir." 

"It's Walt, off duty." 

A small chuckle. "Walt. Goodnight. Sleep well." 

"Good night, Dana. And thanks." 

Placing the receiver down, Skinner snorted softly. Sleep well, indeed. Fine chance. 

* 

Curled up and grunting in pain, Doggett eventually became aware of a scuffling above him, and as time went by without another kick or punch, he ventured to open his eyes and look up. 

The black guy was in head lock with another man. Doggett vaguely recognized him from the communal area. 

He struggled to sit up, still clutching his wounded crotch , one hand wiping the spit from his face. 

He slowly levered himself up on the bench, grimacing. 

Two more black men were approaching, the looks on their faces letting Doggett know he wasn't gonna be asked to be a spotter. Grabbing up one of the hand-held weights, he pulled his aching body into a defensive stance. He stood facing the two. 

"You wanna try for a piece of me, too?" he shouted, holding the weight up. "Huh?" 

They stepped closer, one either side. There was no way he was going to be able to take them both. He jerked his hand back and forth, wondering which one was going to make the first move. 

A flash of blue and two men leapt in from behind, taking the two down in a mess of arms and legs. They hit the floor with a satisfying sound. He watched the four struggle as it became obvious that the white guys were in better shape. 

Who the hell were they? He'd been here long enough to know that no-one helped anyone without good reason, or obligation. He glanced around. 

There were several faces he recognized; some he'd even had conversations with, but none of them were coming to help him. Even Keller was standing at the back, watching silently. 

Doggett lowered the weight. It was making his arm ache. 

He glanced over to where his first assailant was still held a headlock. What was behind him helping out? Doggett stared. There were an astounding amount of tattoos on the man. Hardly an inch of spare skin. Doggett narrowed his eyes. He remembered seeing that man before... Hoyt, was it? 

Shit. The penny dropped. He was one of the... 

"Well, what do we have here?" Doggett closed his eyes briefly. 

Yeah, might have known. 

Vern Schillinger. The man who greeted him in his pod the first night. 

The one Rebadow was so afraid of. Chief Nazi. 

"Nothin' much.' he said, wiping his mouth with his free hand. 

"Sure doesn't look like nothing to me," Vern smiled. He looked one way then the other. "Looks to me like my friends here have stopped you getting a beating from these here fellas." 

Holding his head up, Doggett squared his shoulders, trying to look less like he'd been run over by a truck. 

"I can take care of myself." 

"Well, now, Jackie, I don't think you can." Vern stepped closer. "And you might want to be a little more gracious, if you know what I mean." 

Doggett looked at him. Seemed it was time to take sides. 

Unfortunately, he didn't much like the look of either side. 

"I said: I can take care of myself." 

"Really?" Vern cocked an eyebrow. "You think so?" 

"Yeah. I think so." 

Vern snapped his fingers and released, the three black men unfurled themselves from their captors. 

Doggett swallowed and braced himself. Shit. Not one of his better ideas. 

He hefted the weight again. Back to square one. 

The largest of the three, the one that kneed his balls shrugged his shirt and cracked his neck to the side, stepping away from Hoyt without a second glance. 

"Yo' stupid fuckin' white trash," he grinned. 

Set-up, Doggett's mind screamed! It was a fuckin' set up. He licked his lips, the sudden squirt of adrenaline making his mouth dry. 

He was going to get seriously messed up. 

There were no shouts, just the occasional sounds of weights clanking. The gym was hushed - waiting. Doggett could sense the anticipation. 

This wasn't the civilized world. Rules didn't apply. If he backed off now, he'd be a target for the con with something to prove. 

And there was no way he wanted to be indebted to the Nazis. 

He was aware that all eyes were on him. Waiting to get the measure of him. 

So be it. 

He sucked hard in his mouth, gathering up as much as he could, then pulled his head back and spat the mouthful of blood into the black guy's face, startling him. 

Man wanted to play hard-ball? Well... John Doggett would oblige. 

He took a step back and lifting the hand-held, drove it into the other man as hard as he could. 

* * *

Chapter 18. 

The reports still weren't getting done. They sat accusingly on the dining table, open and exposed, but unread. 

Skinner sat on the sofa ignoring them all. In one hand he held a scotch, in the other a photograph. 

It was faded, taken in the early eighties and exposure to sunlight hadn't done it any favors, but the lake behind the two people in the picture still glittered from the morning sunshine. 

Skinner ran his thumb over the image of a woman. Almost as tall as his father with the inches of tangled curly hair piled high on the top of her head. 

He smiled. His mother always looked so happy in photographs. Not like Sergei, frowning a dour-looking, despite his gentle nature. He could never get his dad to smile for pictures. 

The phone rang again, making him jump slightly. Placing the photo where he could still see it, he reached for the receiver. Would the woman never take no thank you, for an answer? 

He sighed into the handset. "Agent Scully, I have eaten properly and am now struggling through these reports. I'm fine." 

There was a long pause at the other end. 

He frowned. "Dana?" 

"No, Walt. It's Sally." 

Sitting up straight, Skinner put his drink on the table. "Sal? I'm sorry... I thought you were..." 

"Agent Scully. Yes, I gathered." 

"Hey, how are you doing? It's good to hear from you." 

Another long silence tickled the edges of Skinner's nerves. This wasn't the Sal Doggett he knew. 

No jokes, no laughter. 

"Is something wrong, Sal?" 

"Yes, there is." She sighed. "Can I speak to John, please?" 

"He's not here right now." Skinner shook his head. "He's... working." 

A small omission, but she didn't need to know where her brother was. 

"I really need to speak with him, Walt. Will he be back later?" 

"No, I'm sorry. He's working out of town." 

"Damn..." Sal's voice sounded tired. 

"Can I help?" 

She sighed down the line. "No... not really." 

The tickling had grown into all-out alarm bells. "Sal. What is it? 

What's wrong?" 

"When's Johnny going to be back, Walt? 

"I don't know." That much was true. 

"Shit." 

"Sal... Please. What is it?" 

There was another deep exhalation of breath and a long pause. "Our father had a fall yesterday. He's in the hospital." 

Skinner pinched his nose. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

"Walt?" 

"I'm still here. I'm sorry. That's terrible. How is he?" 

"They think it may have been a slight stroke. Don't know for sure yet." 

The scotch and pizza in his belly came burning to the back of his throat. A stroke. 

"Oh God..." 

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it? I need to tell John. He needs to know." 

"Of course..." 

Fuck. How the hell could he give this kind of news to Doggett? And what the hell was he supposed to do? Back out of the operation? 

Shit. 

"I tried his cell phone, but it's not on." 

That was because it was lying upstairs on the dresser. Skinner screwed up his face. 

"He can't use it where he is." 

"He in Alaska or something, Walt?" There was a light banter to her tone. He knew it wouldn't last long. 

"No. He's... Gone undercover ." 

"What?" 

"He's doing a joint operation with the Bureau and Justice Department, Sal. He's out of touch. I can't even call him." 

Sal hissed through her teeth. "Shit." 

Quite. 

He was at a loss for what to say to her. 

"Can't you find some way to get word to him, Walt? He needs to know." She was right. He did. Whether or not he would be allowed to jeopardize the operation by telling him, was another matter. 

"Is your father..." He cleared his throat. "Is he very ill?" 

"We don't know yet. He broke his hip again, but the doctors are more concerned with a slight aphasia in his left side. We'll know more in the next couple of days." 

"Okay." 

A few days, maybe enough time for Doggett to get the job done. 

"Thing is, Walt. I don't know if he's gonna get over this." 

The food rushed back up to burn and make him belch. He swallowed. 

"What?" 

"He's not eating properly, they've had to put him on a drip... He's just lying there." There was a hitch in her voice. "I think he's given up." 

Skinner closed his eyes against the sound of the soft tears coming down the line. 

"Oh Sal..." 

After a while, she blew her nose. "So...I don't know. Maybe you need to get word to John sooner rather than later." 

"Is that okay with your mother?" Skinner tried to keep any judgment out of his voice. Betty Doggett had maintained a stony silence ever since their ill-fated visit, refusing to speak to John, re-buffing his calls, returning any letters, unopened. Talking to his father on the phone was a trial, with his hearing; consequently, there hadn't been much contact. 

"Not exactly..." There was hesitation in Sal's voice. 

"Not exactly?" 

"Well... she says she doesn't want him there." 

"I see." 

" She's a stubborn woman, Walt. She is adamant. Strange, Johnny was always her favorite." 

Skinner was surprised there was no bitterness in her tone. She seemed perfectly accepting of her mother's favoritism. Skinner didn't think he'd be quite so understanding. 

"You think she'll be okay about you telling him?" 

"I don't know, but I think John needs to know what's happened." 

He didn't want to think of how Doggett would take more rejection from his mother. He knew his lover tried to macho it out, but he also knew how much he'd been hurt by her refusal to speak to him for the last 6 months. And he felt more than a little guilty that he was the direct cause. 

"What if she won't let him see his dad? That's going to hurt." 

"I know. But don't you think John should have the chance to decide for himself if he wants to go against her and come see daddy?" 

"Yes. I think you're right. He ought to know." With any luck, the thing would be over and he could tell Doggett in person. 

Sal sighed. She sounded exhausted. "I'd better get back. I just popped out of the hospital to call you." 

"You need to take care of yourself, Sally," he said. 

She gave a small chuckle. "Yes, sir." 

Skinner smiled. "I mean it. Take care. And give my... regards to your parents." 

"Maybe I'll just pass them on to daddy. All things considered." 

"Okay." 

"Give John a big hug from me when you see him, okay?" 

"I'll do that. 'Bye." 

Skinner laid the phone down slowly. He sorely needed to give Doggett that hug, but had no idea when that was going to happen. Or how and if, he should tell the other man about his father. 

* * *

Chapter 19. 

Doggett hugged his knees to his chest. Shit, it was cold in here. 

The bare floor of the hole was covered in gritty bits that dug into him wherever his skin touched it. Lying down was a nightmare; his body was a mass of bruised flesh. In the past two and a bit days, he'd discovered there was no comfortable way to lie, sit or stand. 

But at least he was safe from another beating. Giving him chance to heal. 

He poked gingerly at his hip bone. There was a deep blue bruise across the bone, one that ached clear through to the other side. A boot in the side that had stopped just this side of a giving him a fractured pelvis, he imagined. 

The clank of door key made him jump. He looked up, still not used to the silence in the Hole, not after the unrelenting noise of the rest of the prison. The door swung open and his heart sank. So much for being left alone. 

"Hello, Jackie-boy." 

Officer Howell grinned down at him. Her eyes traveled slowly up and down his nude body, stopping to study his groin. 

Not bothering to cover himself, Doggett glared back up at her. 

"What d'you want?" he growled. 

"Just thought I'd see how you're gettin' on, Sweetheart." She stepped into the cell. "See if there's anything I can do for you." The door creaked shut behind her. 

"Can't think of anything in particular," Doggett muttered. He tensed up, but he didn't think he'd have the strength to fight her off if she made a move on him. 

"How 'bout a blow-job?" 

Utterly stunned, he stared up at her. She tucked her baton in her belt. 

"What?" 

"A blow job." She winked and moved closer. "You do know what one of those is, don't you, honey?" 

Nodding incredulously, Doggett felt his balls creep closer to his body. The very idea made his flesh shrivel. "I know." 

"Then how 'bout it?" She bent to put her hands on his knees. 

"Uh..." He swallowed. "No, thanks all the same." He braced his legs. 

What the hell? What did she think she was doing? Surely she didn't mean it... 

"I'm good," she told him, kneeling, pulling his legs apart. 

Fuckin' hell. She meant it. 

Doggett tried to squeeze his legs together. He didn't want this crazy bitch touching him. He put his hand over his dick. 

"No... Don't." 

Howell grinned and shook her head. "C'mon, baby. Don't be shy." She reached down between his legs. 

"No!" 

Slapping her hands away, Doggett tried to scramble away, his sore body protesting at the harsh floor, the sudden movement. 

There was a noise outside the door. 

Standing swiftly, Howell took her baton out from her belt. Doggett cringed. Shit, now he was gonna get a different kind of attention. 

"Stand up!" she yelled at him, raising the stick as another officer came round the door. 

"Having trouble?" he asked her. 

"I got it covered. Get up, Costello." She kicked out. "NOW!" 

Doggett yelped as her boot thudded dully against his thigh. He scrambled to his knees and pushed himself upright, using the wall to steady himself. 

"That's enough, Officer Howell." 

Doggett turned. Sister Pete stood in the doorway, a bundle of clothes in her hands. 

He felt the color rise in his face. 

"I'll take it from here. You can go." 

Howell straightened up. "I don't think that's appropriate, Sister." 

"I'll manage." She turned to Doggett. "Are you going to behave yourself, Jack?" 

He nodded, keeping his back to her. 

"There you are. Jack is going to behave." 

"I don't..." 

"I said, I can manage." Peter Marie's voice held an edge to it. 

Doggett glanced at her. It was the tone of voice his mother had always used, right before she'd make his dad take the strap to him. 

There was a moment of stand-off between the two women, and then with a shrug, Howell shoved her baton away. 

"Suit yourself. But don't come running to me when he rapes you." 

She jerked her head at the other officer and they both left the cell, the door swinging behind them. 

Doggett and Pete stared at one another. 

At last, she smiled. "You're not planning on raping me, are you, Jack?" 

The slight blush he'd been nursing roared into full-bloom. "It wasn't on my list of things to do today, no." 

"I didn't think so." She held out the clothes to him. "Here you go. 

Why don't you put these on and then we can get out of here." 

Doggett hugged the wall, not moving. He blinked. There was no way he was moving from here while she was in the room. Bad enough she was getting an eyeful of his bare ass. 

"I... I'm naked," he said, pointing out the obvious. 

"So I see..." She sighed. "I'm not intimidated by your nudity, Jack. 

I know what a man's body looks like." She waggled her outstretched hand. "Come on. Now." 

She was using that tone again. He stared at her and she stared at him. Although he was impressed her eyes never wavered from his, he wasn't comfortable. 

"Turn around," he said, reaching out a hand to the clothes. 

"What?" 

"I'm not moving from here til you turn around." 

Smiling, she held out the clothes with one hand and turned her head away. "Happy?" 

Grunting, Doggett snatched the clothes and began to pull them on, keeping one eye on her, checking she wasn't going to peek. 

"I never met a prisoner who was bashful, before." 

Snorting, Doggett pulled the tee shirt over his head. 

"Especially one with no good cause." 

Pausing with his head about to pop through the hole, Doggett stared at the back of her head, shocked. 

"What d'you say?" 

"Hurry up," she said, ignoring him. "Before Howell changes her mind and comes back." 

With that thought uppermost, he finished dressing and wriggled his feet into his trainers. 

"Ready," he said, running his hands through his hair. He must look like seven shades of shit. 

Black and blue, hair all over the place, and a weeks growth of beard. 

Pete turned round. 

"Okay. Let's go." 

Following her up the corridor, Doggett wondered why she'd come to get him. McManus had gone ballistic when he was dragged from the gym and he'd screamed that he was going to spend the next thirty days in Ad Seg. 

By his count, he was short of that by twenty seven days. 

"Why am I getting out so soon?" 

"Your lucky day, I guess." 

They walked further in silence, the doors to the other cells passing one by one until the end of the block. They waited side by side as the door was unlocked. 

"I don't believe that." 

"Really?" 

He shook his head as they mounted the stairs. "I messed that guy up pretty bad." He held his ribs as he climbed. 

"Yes. You did." Pete stopped and turned to him. "Why?" 

"I believed he was going to kill me." 

"Raymond Doyle is going to have to have reconstructive surgery on his upper jaw. He has a fractured cheekbone and is missing four teeth." 

From two steps above, she looked down on him. "Did you enjoy what you did to him, Jack?" 

Doggett swallowed. He felt a little queasy. "No. I didn't." He shook his head and spoke quietly. "It makes me sick." 

"Good." She carried on climbing. 

Following more slowly, Doggett held on to himself and wondered what the hell was going on. 

First he was in the hole, then he was out... It didn't make sense. 

Unless... 

He reached up and touched Sister Pete's elbow. She turned to look at his hand. 

"Is this the Governor?" he asked. Had Leo Glynn arranged for him to be released early? 

He couldn't do his job locked away from Keller. 

Pete stared at his hand until he got the message and let go of her elbow. 

"Yes. It is. He apparently sees good reason why you should be returned to your pod." 

From her tone, she wasn't convinced it was the right decision. 

Doggett nodded. 

"Was it the right decision?" she asked. 

He looked at her. "No, I don't think so." He surprised himself. That wasn't what he thought he was going to say. 

"Oh?" 

"I haven't been punished enough for doing what I did." He sighed. "But I'm sure someone will find a way of rectifying that." 

"Probably." She stepped down to look at him eye to eye. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "But you can't do what you came here to do in the Hole, can you, Jack?" 

He stared at her. 

"Is it 'Jack'?" 

Dumbly, he shook his head. He opened his mouth a couple of times. 

Stunned by her comment. 

"It's John," he whispered. 

Pete nodded. "John... You listen to me. You take care, you understand? Be very careful. If word gets out amongst these men that you are an officer of the law, your life will be over within minutes. 

Is that clear?" 

Doggett nodded. "How did you..." 

She gave a one shouldered shrug. "I badgered Leo. I knew something wasn't right." 

She started up the stairs again. Doggett followed. Seemed that his whole life he was running into women who took the world in their hands and strangled the truth out of it. He snorted softly, using the stair rail to pull himself up to the landing. Seemed that the only one he knew that didn't possess that tenacity was his wife. She just didn't have the heart to fight for anything, least of all him. 

He stood beside Sister Pete, wincing at the pain in his side. 

She reached up and held his chin. "You get what you need and get out quickly, John." 

He nodded, surprised at the strength in her fingers. "I intend to." 

* * *

Chapter 20. 

"It's not a priority, Assistant Director." 

Skinner slammed his hand down on the table. 

"It's a goddamned priority to Agent Doggett!" he shouted. 

"We can't endanger the operation." 

"For crying out loud, his father might be dying!" Skinner knew that shouting at his superior wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but the whole situation was too close to home, too sore an issue for him to see and think clearly. He would have given anything to have had the chance to say goodbye to his parents. He didn't want Doggett to spend the rest of his life thinking the same thing. 

The Deputy Director shrugged. "He might be... May be. It's not a certainty..." He held up a hand as Skinner opened his mouth to speak. "And even if it were, I can't justify losing the only chance we have of finding out about possible corruption in the courts." 

"POSSIBLE corruption?" Skinner straightened up. "I thought it was a certainty." 

Kersh shook his head. "It's not been proven. But I have it from a reliable source..." 

Skinner felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. "I don't believe it... 

He's there on a hunch? On one of your..." 

"Reliable information." 

"So you said." Skinner stood up. "One of our best agents is placed in an extremely hazardous situation on the basis of your 'hunch'." He glared across the desk. 

"Happens all the time, Assistant Director. You know that." 

But not to someone I love, thought Skinner. 

He fought down the urge to punch Kersh in the mouth. Well, fuck Kersh, fuck the FBI and fuck the Justice Department. He was going to get word to Doggett. His family was more important than any half-assed operation. Especially one cooked up because Alvin Kersh fancied getting some glory. He made a move to leave, his jaw set. 

"Don't even think about it, AD Skinner." Kersh stood up. "You will not jeopardize this operation. If I hear that you contacted Agent Doggett, then I will personally see to it that you are busted so far down, you won't have clearance to clean the men's room." 

Fair exchange, Skinner thought. 

He stood up, still determined. 

Kersh smirked. "And if Agent Doggett abandons this case, I shall see to it that his employment is also terminated." 

Skinner stared. He wouldn't? Just to save face? 

Kersh stared back, his face stony. 

Yes. He would. 

* 

"You're out early." Beecher looked him up and down. 

"Guess the boss had a change of heart." Doggett placed his laundry in a machine. 

"Lucky you." 

"Yeah. You'd think." Wincing as he pushed the door shut, he sighed. "God..." he groaned. "I'm too old for this shit." 

A good night's sleep on a bunk had turned into a chat-marathon from Rebadow, and an insomniac's wet-dream of wakeful fretting. Whether it was the pain, the creaky bed or the thought of Skinner, it didn't really matter. It all had the same result. Staring at the bump Rebadow's ass made in the upper bunk most of the night. 

"I take it you didn't sleep too well?" Beecher grinned, tipping powder into his own machine. 

"Not so's you'd notice." 

"You'll get used to it." 

Doggett shook his head. "I hope not." 

Someone burst through the door. "Hey, Jack! You got out!" 

It was Keller. Doggett nodded. "Looks like." He couldn't help the tiny stab of resentment that the other man hadn't so much as spoken up for him in the gym. 

"Cool. You wanna play some poker? Me and the guys are lookin' for another body." 

Torn between the desire to pump the cheerful shit for the information he needed, and the more pressing need to just lie down somewhere and sleep, he hesitated too long. 

"Hey... Whatever, man. Suit yourself." Keller flicked his eyes to Beecher. "Hey, Toby. Wanna come play with me?" Doggett got the impression there wasn't poker in that invitation, but he couldn't be sure. 

"No." Beecher's voice was cold and dead. 

"You sure?" 

"I'm busy." 

"That's too bad." Keller smiled. It brightened up his whole face, Doggett thought. "See ya around, man." Without waiting for a reply, Keller turned left the laundry room. 

"Friend of yours?" Doggett asked. 

"Not any more." 

"Oh." 

Beecher's tone made it clear that questions wouldn't be welcome. 

Doggett watched the man savagely turn the dials on the machine and sighed. Didn't look like he'd get any information from Beecher. 

Never mind. He'd try again with Keller later. When he felt a little less like a pile of minced shit. 

Damn. He felt rough. 

He reached up to rub his eyes, but never finished the move, a sharp pain in his shoulder reminding him that he had gotten the shit kicked out of himself a few days ago. His body wasn't gonna let him forget that, just yet. 

"Shit..." he pulled a face. 

Beecher came up to him. "Hey, you look like crap, man." 

"Thanks." 

Beecher smiled. "Sorry. But you do." He peered closer. "You wanna go to the infirmary?" 

"Nah. I'll be okay." He stretched to try and work the kink out of his shoulder. 

"Here..." 

Next thing he knew, Beecher's hands were on his shoulders and neck, rubbing and kneading. 

Doggett flinched. "Hey..." 

"Oh, get over yourself. I'm just trying to help, not fuck you." 

Doggett's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to pass comment on that, but the man's hands just felt too good. He groaned again, this time in satisfaction, recalling the times Rudy had sat behind him and done this, all the time complaining good-naturedly because Doggett wouldn't let him suck him off. 

"See? Feels good, doesn't it?" 

"Yeah," he muttered. 

Fuck it. Right at that moment, he really didn't care if Beecher was trying to make a move on him, it just felt too damn good. 

"Besides, if wanted to fuck you, you'd be bent over that washer with my dick up your ass by now." 

Doggett choked back a laugh. "Oh yeah?" Shit, more like his old friend that he could believe. 

"Uh-huh." 

"You reckon I'm that easy?" 

"Nah..." Doggett felt the whisper of breath against his neck. "But I'm that good." 

The laugh made it all the way out this time. "Jesus, Beecher..." He shook his head. 

The hands dropped from his body. "Does that frighten you, Jack?" 

Doggett turned. "Take more than your sad ass to frighten me." 

Beecher grinned and took a handful of his tee shirt, bunching it up like he was going to hit him. "Oh, yeah?" 

Doggett gazed back calmly. He bet his sore and bruised face on the gut instinct that told him Beecher wasn't the type to smack him around. He smiled. "Yeah." 

"Ooh. Tough guy." 

"Better believe it." 

The two stared at one another, and then Beecher ducked in suddenly and put his mouth over Doggett's. 

Startled beyond what he had been half-expecting, Doggett jumped and put his hands up to Beecher's chest. But he didn't pull away. And that surprised him even more. 

He allowed the other man to kiss him, without protest, without struggling. He allowed Beecher to part his lips with his tongue and probe deep into his mouth. 

He didn't know why he didn't struggle and he didn't bother to ask himself. 

Maybe he missed the intimacy, or maybe in some way he was allowing Rudy the kind of kiss his friend had always wanted to give him. He wasn't sure; he just stood there and let it happen. 

Eventually, Beecher pulled away. 

"Well. You kinda surprise me, Jack. I didn't think you'd let me get away with that." 

Doggett shrugged. Didn't see any mileage in admitting that he hadn't thought he'd let him get away with it, either. 

"It was just a kiss." 

"Thought you said you were married." 

"Thought you said you were, too." 

Beecher smiled. "Touche." He let go of Doggett shirt and stepped back. "What can I say?" 

"Nothin'. It doesn't matter." 

"That mean you want to fuck, or not?" 

Doggett winced. 

"Hey! Not much point in dicking around with niceties in here." 

"So I gather." 

"Well? What's it to be?" 

Doggett sighed. "It's complicated." Wasn't that the truth? Ancient history and guilt bleeding together. 

Beecher grunted. "Isn't it always? You married again?" 

"No. But I have someone. On the outside, you know." 

"Guy?" 

Doggett nodded. Didn't seem to any point in lying. 

Beecher gave a grim smile. "And you think he's still gonna be there when you finally get out of here?" 

Doggett couldn't help the smile. "I sure hope so." 

Beecher shook his head. "You're either a very stupid man, or a very lucky one, Jack." 

"Time will tell," he said, pulling his shirt straight. 

He turned to turn his machine on. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see someone standing on the other side of the glass. He looked up. 

Keller was standing motionless, his arms above his head, forehead resting on the glass. 

He didn't look pleased at all. 

Doggett wondered why. And more importantly, if he'd just gone and made another huge mistake. 

* 

Scully pointed at the folder on the left. "....And you'll see that the figures balance out between the two." 

There was no reaction from the other side of the desk. 

"Sir?" She looked up. Skinner was holding his pen, turning it over and over, his expression indication his mind was anywhere but on the expense claims in front of him. 

She exchanged a glance with Mulder. 

"Sir?" 

The pen tumbled over and over between his fingers. No sign that he heard. 

Mulder leaned forward. "There's this new Multi-system home entertainment thing on offer at the store down the way. I thought I'd charge it to the Bureau. Is that okay, sir?" 

Skinner nodded. 

Grinning, Mulder pushed a blank 302 across the desk. "Can I have that in writing?" 

Blinking, Skinner stopped juggling his pen and focused on him. 

"What?" 

"Welcome back," Mulder smiled. 

Frowning Skinner looked down at the 302. What had they been talking about? Expense accounts? Signing off? Signing off on what? Jesus, he had to get a grip. Try and keep his mind on work for more than five minutes at a time. 

"Sir?" 

He looked up at Scully. 

"Yes, Agent?" 

"Are you feeling quite all right?" 

He frowned. How dare she... Sighing, he studied the fountain pen in his hand. Damn. She could see through him like plate-glass. He closed his eyes briefly and looked up. 

"Are you..." she started. 

He shook his head. Not here, he said with his expression. With sudden decisiveness, he unsnapped his pen lid and pulled the 302 towards him. Scribbling quickly, he turned the paper around for her to see. 

Gino's Diner. 15 minutes. 

* 

Something nagging and buzzing inside his head dragged Doggett out of his doze. The dream had started off good, with Skinner in it, but it had changed as he slept, turning inside-out to become a small horror-flick with his mother in the starring role. 

All spiky legs and scales. Very unnerving. 

But despite the nightmare trip to Lord of the Rings, it'd been a good nap; deep and refreshing. He wondered how long he'd been out of it. 

Carefully scrubbing his face and yawning, he stretched and opened his eyes. Rebadow was standing inches from his face. 

"Jesusfuck!!" startled, Doggett scrambled back in his bunk. "What're you tryin' to do to me, man?" 

"I wanted to check you were just asleep." 

"Well, I'm not fuckin' dead yet,okay?" Vaguely pissed at himself from being frightened by the old man, Doggett moved back to the middle of his bed. "What time is it?" 

"About half past four. It'll be time to eat, soon." He smiled broadly. "It's pizza day, today." 

"Yay." Doggett tried not to sound too sarcastic. He eased himself up, holding on to his very sore thigh. Howell's boot was making itself known. "Jeez..." 

"You still hurting?" 

He pointed at his face. "What do you think?" 

"Ah." 

Rebadow puttered around the pod a while, moving stuff, straightening books, papers. Doggett poked and probed his body, finding out what bits ached too much to ignore. He was gonna live, but it wasn't going to be much fun for a while. 

He ran a hand over his beard. It was thickening out now. Always took him a while to get a decent coverage, especially on his cheeks. But it was pretty near all over now. Hadn't sported a full-on beard for God knows how long. Barb had hated it. 

Wasn't sure he liked it, either. Kinda made him feel a bit unclean. 

He wondered if Skinner would dig the hippy-look. 

"She does love you, you know." 

Doggett looked up, his mind a blank. "Huh?" 

"You might think she doesn't, but she does." 

He screwed up his face. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" 

"She's always loved you best." Rebadow frowned, trying to get his toothbrush to stand upright. 

"I don't think that's right, having favorites. But there you go." 

He used his toothpaste to prop it up. It fell over again. 

"Rebadow... Are you havin' a stroke, or somethin', man?" 

"No. He is. Not me." 

Doggett shook his head. Great. Hundred's of inmates and he got to share a pod the loopy one. 

"You remind her of Michael. That's why she loves you best." 

Doggett opened his mouth to ask who the fuck Michael was, but closed it with a sigh. He wasn't going to get into conversation with a crazy man. He didn't have the energy. 

"Yeah, right." 

"You do. You have the same eyes. Same color hair." 

"Yeah... Michael." He shook his head. "I'm going for a walk." He got up carefully. "See you around, Rebadow." 

Seemed everyone in this place was crazy in some way or another. He had to get this job done and out of here, before it was his turn. 

* 

They came in together, which while not surprising him, did disappoint him slightly. He could have done without Mulder's company. 

Indicating at the waitress, he let them get settled in the booth before ordering. 

"Coffee. Black, no sugar." 

"Latte, with hazelnut syrup." 

Mulder picked up the menu. "Can I get something to eat? I'm starved." 

He glanced at the food orders. "I'll have the bacon and cheese on white, with a side of onion rings and a root beer." 

He grinned. "Skipped breakfast," he told the waitress, winking. 

"Anything for you guys?" 

Scully shrugged. "Okay. I'll have a bagel. Cream cheese and salad, thank you." She looked pointedly at Skinner. "And what would you like, Walter?" 

He sighed. What would he like? Peace and quiet, Alvin Kersh's nuts on a plate and John Doggett back in his arms, he thought. 

He cleared his throat, frowning. "Cherry Danish." 

"Is that all?" The waitress held her pen over her pad. 

"That's all, thank you." He didn't really care for that kind of pastry, but it was John's favorite, and that seemed appropriate. 

"So." Scully leaned on her elbows. "What is it? What's wrong? Have you heard from John?" 

Skinner shook his head. He watched Mulder stacking the sachets of sweetener. 

"No." 

"Then what?" 

He sighed. The stack of little packets grew. Jesus, Mulder was such a baby. Couldn't sit still for a second. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face. "Sal Doggett called me last night. John's father's ill. Very ill." 

There was silence, except for the rustle of little packets. The noise grated on Skinner's nerves. 

"They think stroke." 

"Oh, Walter." 

"Thing is, John needs to know, but Kersh has vetoed it. Says that if John wants out, the whole thing's lost." 

"God..." 

Skinner spread his hands. "He needs to know about his father. Needs to be allowed to make the choice of whether to see him, before..." He sighed. "Damn. I don't know what to do." 

The packets tumbled in a heap. 

One of Skinner's hands snapped out and slammed Mulder's to the table. "Can't you leave things alone?" he snarled. "Just for five fucking minutes?" 

Mulder sat, meerkat-eyed across the table. 

"Excuse me?" Three sets of eyes turned to the waitress, who stood with a large tray in her hands. 

Skinner removed his hand, embarrassed. He thrust his glasses back on his face and swept the debris aside for the food. 

Distributed in silence, the three of them sat and looked at it for a moment or two. 

"Sorry," Mulder spoke quietly. 

Skinner grunted. 

For the next few minutes, they all ate in silence. Skinner stuck a finger in the middle of his pastry and sucked the fruit off. Just like John would do on a Sunday morning, when they ate breakfast in bed. It was sharp, tangy. He felt his mouth cramp up and water at the taste. He felt like the rest of him wanted to crampup, too. 

"So you can't contact him?" 

He shook his head. "I asked." He sucked off another fingerful. "Kersh informs me that if I show my face there, he'll see me fired." 

"Jeez. You must have really pissed the boss off, huh?" Mulder wiped cheese grease off his chin. 

"Apparently the set-up is one of his babies. He doesn't want to see it go down the tubes." 

Scully snorted. "Asshole." 

The word, coming from her, made Skinner smile. "Quite. And while I'm sorely tempted to test him out, he's hanging John's career over my head, too." 

"He wouldn't?" 

Skinner looked at her. "He would. Just to prove he's the boss." 

Picking at the Danish, Skinner watched the other two eat in silence, the sounds of the diner strangely comforting. A blast of normality in this fucked-up situation. This was the sort of place Doggett would choose to eat when it was his treat. Preferably a place with good rock and roll music playing in the background. Although those establishments were getting harder and harder to find, nowadays. 

Scully put down the last bit of her bagel. "If you can't go and see John, then how about sending someone else?" 

"I thought about that. I know Sal would go, but I don't think she should be away from her parents right now." 

"I'd do it. Only..." she shrugged. "I met Tim McManus at a seminar a while back. If you think I could get away without him seeing me, then I'm willing to go." 

"It's not worth the risk. If you're recognized, then word will get out and Kersh will have your career, too." 

Scully pulled a face. "I think I..." 

"No. Scully. I won't risk you, too." 

Mulder held up a fork. "Can't you call him? I mean, prisoners are allowed phone calls, aren't they?" 

Scully gave him a look. "You think this is the sort of thing you'd want to hear over the phone, Mulder?" 

He looked abashed. "Oh. I guess not." 

"I should think so." 

"I need to get word to him, so he an either hurry things up, or blow it off. Without Kersh guessing." 

Scully nodded, deep in thought. "Maybe we could get one of the gunmen..." 

"I'll do it." 

Skinner snorted. "I don't think they'd be too keen on going inside a max security prison." 

She frowned. "Probably not." 

"I said, I'd do it." 

They both turned to look at Mulder. 

"What did you say?" 

He cleared his throat and put his fork down. "I said I'll do it. I'll go to Oz." He grinned. "I'll follow the Yellow Brick Road." 

He looked from one to the other, waiting for them to say something. 

The silence stretched on. "What?" 

Skinner stayed quiet. Scully shook her head. "Why would you..." 

"Hey! You don't have to make such a big deal out of it. I just thought that no-one knows me there, I could get a visitor's pass and get inside easily." 

Scully frowned, obviously thinking it over. "It might..." 

"No." Skinner sat back and folded his arms. 

"Why not?" Mulder mirrored his pose. "Neither you or his sister can go. Scully can't. That leaves yours truly." 

Skinner shook his head. "No." 

Mulder sighed. "Look. I know I'm not exactly your favorite person..." 

Skinner grunted. 

"But I might be your only option." He leaned forward. "Besides... I'd like to do it." 

Skinner glared. "Why?" 

Shrugging, Mulder looked down at his plate. "Can't a guy just offer to do a good thing without being interrogated?" 

"Depends on the guy and the reason." 

Mulder looked up at the sharp tone. "Ouch." He nodded. "Okay, I deserved that." He spread his hands. "Look. We all know I have some serious making-up to do...." A blush tinged his face. 

"And maybe this could be part of it. Doing something for Big Dog." 

"Don't call him that." 

Skinner weighed up the offer. Most of him wanted to say no. Wanted to tell Mulder to fuck off, they didn't need his help. Not now, not ever, thank you very much. But another, more sensible part had already agreed that it was the best solution, God help him. 

He just hoped Mulder would find it in himself to be considerate when he told Doggett the news. And he hoped Doggett would forgive him for sending Mulder. 

"Okay," he said, with great reluctance. 

"All right!"Mulder grinned and rubbed his hands together. "I'll get the Gunmen to work their ID magic and I'll just take a few days off sick. No problemo." He made a zipping motion with his hand. "In like Flynn." 

Skinner reached out and grabbed the hand. He squeezed it tight, leaning forward. He allowed Mulder to struggle slightly, and then spoke in a low growl. 

"You just make sure you tell him kindly. You hear me, Mulder?" 

Big hazel eyes regarded him with unease. "Uh-huh. I promise." 

Giving the trapped hand one last hard pinch of his fingers, Skinner let go. 

He would personally rip Mulder into little pieces if he fucked this up. 

* * *

Chapter 21. 

The pizza hadn't been at all bad. And there had been chocolate pudding for dessert, which made him feel better. Doggett had gone to bed with a full stomach and more settled than he'd been all week. 

He'd slept solidly through the night. 

Maybe Beecher and Rebadow were right, he was getting used to the madness. 

He stood out on the balcony for morning roll-call and scanned the crowd for Keller. He really ought to get his act together and try getting close to the man before he was transferred. 

He peered over the landing. Straight into Keller's eyes. 

Doggett jumped back slightly. Moments later, he looked again. Keller was still staring at him, this time he had a slight smile on his face. 

Was that a good thing, he wondered as roll-call finished and he wandered back into his pod. He'd worry about that later. Right now all he wanted to do was take a shower. 

As it turned out Rebadow had a minor tantrum over a lost comb, so after helping the older man find it and calm him down, he was late getting to the showerroom. 

He sighed; hoping the hot water wasn't all gone. Rebadow was a fruitcake. That was definite. Certifiable. Ought to be in a nuthouse, not prison. Hanging his towel up, he grinned to himself. 

Supposed this place was close enough, he supposed. 

Great. The water was still coming out hot. Let's hear it for institutions. 

Ducking his head under the stream, he let the near scalding water ease his muscles. Shit, that felt good. He closed his eyes and propped his hands on the wall, letting hot water stream down his sore shoulders and back. 

He didn't know how long he stood there, just basking in the heat. But gradually, a tickle in the back of his neck told him he wasn't alone. 

And after 40-odd years, he'd learned to trust that tickle. It'd saved his ass more than once. 

He turned his head and peered through the steam. 

Keller. 

He might have guessed. 

The other man was standing under his own stream of water, watching him. A small bar of soap in his hand was tracking over his pecs, leaving a soapy trail. 

Doggett jerked his chin up. "Hey." 

"Hey. How d'you feel today?" Keller nodded at his battered body. 

"Better." Doggett stood up straight. "It's easing off a bit." 

Keller smiled. "I thought about jumpin' in and givin' you a hand in there, but you seemed to be doin' okay." 

"Gee, thanks, Keller. I 'ppreciate your faith in me." He blew water out of his mouth. 

"My pleasure. Besides..." Doggett watched as the dark eyes tracked up and down his body. "I think you're in pretty good shape. You didn't need me makin' things worse for you." 

The message in Keller's eyes wasn't subtle. Lust glimmered there. 

Doggett deliberately let his own eyes do the same thing to Keller's body. 

If the man was trying to send signals, then he'd oblige by sending some of his own. See what he made of that. 

"That so? How d'you figure?" 

Keller shrugged. "You don't need my enemies." 

Doggett snorted wetly. "You got that right. I got enough of my own." 

He stuck his head under the water again. 

"How long you get?" 

Doggett didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Fifteen." 

Keller shrugged. "Not so bad. You might get parole in say... Eight." 

"That's what I was hopin' for. I got an appeal goin'..." He pulled a face. "But I got this hard-assed judge for the hearing. Man, is he a sonofabitch. Prob'ly give me life, without..." 

Keller laughed. "Awww, man, ain't that the truth?" 

"Bastard. Wish I could get him off my case." 

Keller chuckled. "Tell you what, Jackie, if you got the money, you can change just about anything you want in this world." He leaned over. "An' that includes judges." 

Doggett's heart began to pound. This was it. This was what he was in here to get. 

He nodded; hoping his face wouldn't give him away. 

"Yeah? Well, money I got. No problem. Contacts?" He shook his head. "Got more chance of bangin' Sister Pete." 

Keller threw his head back and roared with laughter. Doggett sent up a quick prayer for forgiveness for taking the sister's name in vain, and grinned. 

"Know what I mean?" 

"Yeah, man. I know." He chuckled. "But you know what? With me, it's the other way around..." 

Doggett shrugged and wiped his face. He had to play it cool. Play it cool... 

"Yeah, yeah... So you say." 

Softly, softly... Give it up... He looked around for his soap. 

"You lookin' for this?" Keller held up the bar. 

"You make a habit outta helpin' yourself to other peoples' things?" 

Keller grinned. "Yeah. More fun, that way." 

Grunting, Doggett held his hand out. "Give." 

Snatching his hand back, Keller shook his head. "Uh-uh." 

Clicking his fingers, Doggett held out his hand. "Come on, man. I'm sore, aching and just this side of pissed off with life in general. 

Give it to me." 

Something glittered in Keller's eyes. 

"You want the soap?" 

Doggett sighed. "You'd think, wouldn't you?" 

"Okay, Jackie. Here y'go." 

Doggett wasn't as surprised as he thought he should be when Keller stepped forward and put his hand on his chest. He slapped his palm right in the middle and began to rub the bar of soap against Doggett's chest. 

He stood motionless as Keller swept his hand from one side to the other, scraping his nails across nipples that were suddenly perking up and paying attention to things. 

"You like that?" Keller breathed, stepping a touch closer. 

Doggett considered what to say, or more importantly, what to admit to. 

Yes, he did like it. He missed being touched. Having gone years without contact, his time with Skinner had turned him into a contact-junkie. 

The feel of Keller's hand was wonderful. 

On the other hand, he wasn't sure how far he wanted to let this go. 

Okay, he was supposed to make friends with this guy, but did his patriotic duty include being groped in the showers? 

* 

Mulder pulled the ID out of Skinner's hand. 

"I got it. No talking to anyone, no idle conversation, nothing. Get in, tell him, then out. Fine." 

"Don't hang about." 

"I know." 

"But tell him..." 

"Kindly." Mulder looked at Skinner. "Yes. I know." 

"Make sure you do." Skinner spoke gruffly. 

He was torn up inside. He wanted so bad to be the one that told John about his dad. He couldn't imagine a worse person to break news like this. He'd have freaked if Mulder had told him about his own parents demise. 

Jesus. Mulder. The one man he didn't trust with his lover, the one man he wanted to kill for daring to put his mouth on Doggett's. 

There was a tiny part of him that also blamed Mulder for the mess John was in over his mom. If he and Doggett hadn't gone at it like they did, then maybe they could've either kept quiet about their relationship. Or at least waited a while before telling his folks. 

He stepped back from the car. "Get in, get..." 

"Out. I know, Skinner. I know." Mulder rolled his eyes and Skinner fought the urge to smash his fist into the face in front of him. 

Mulder climbed into the car, slammed the door and buzzed the window down. 

"Hey! I'll give your best to Tim, Scully!" The car sped off in a burst of gravel Skinner opened his mouth and raised a hand at the disappearing back-end, realizing that was just how Mulder wanted him to react. He put his hand down. 

"He'll be okay." 

"Who? John?" Skinner asked, watching the tail-lights disappear. 

"No. Mulder. He'll do it right." 

Grunting, Skinner stared at the red lights as they turned out onto the main road. 

He hoped so, God he hoped so. 

* 

Doggett watched the drops of water roll off Keller's eyelashes as he blinked. He found it increasingly hard to tear himself away from the hypnotic touch, those expressive eyes. 

"You like this?" Keller asked him again, standing so close now; he could feel his breath on his face. The hand with the soap was slithering around his side, working its way down towards his ass. 

Doggett knew exactly where it was headed, but couldn't bring himself to say stop. 

Not just yet. 

"You like this?" The hand gripped his ass tight. 

He shivered and nodded. 

"Say it." 

Doggett swallowed, parched, despite the rivers of water. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I like it." 

It wasn't a lie. Not really. He did like it. His common-sense might not be entirely happy with the situation, but he had to admit he liked it. 

"Good." Keller stepped impossibly close, pulling Doggett to him, until their groins bumped together. Doggett could feel the other man's erection digging in the crease of his leg. 

His own dick began to swell in traitorous reply. 

The other man leaned in and ran a tongue over Doggett's neck, making him shiver. 

Shit. 

This was getting out of hand. 

Keller probed between his ass cheeks with slick fingers, biting at the skin under his jaw. 

Doggett opened his mouth to say something, to stop Keller from taking things any further. He took a breath... 

Faster than water down the drain, a hand slid up to cover his mouth; his body was turned to the wall and shoved forward. Eyes popping, he stuck his hands out quickly to stop his face from slamming into the tiles. 

Oh shit... 

Keller kicked his legs apart, his hand still clamped over Doggett's, his free hand spreading soapy water between his cheeks. 

A low whisper breathed into an ear that Doggett knew was turning scarlet with panic. 

"Oh, yeah... I like this too, Jackie. You're hot, baby." 

He struggled to push Keller away, a hopeless task while he was off-balance and still very sore. 

To his mortification, he felt Keller slide his hand around to cup his semi-erect dick, pumping it swiftly, wetly. He could feel himself responding to the heat and the friction, despite everything his rational mind told him. 

"Yeah... You like this..." Keller bit the back of Doggett's ear, making his eyes water. 

He tried to shake his head, pushing away. This was way too much like the whole, 'Mulder-in-the-shower' thing for his liking. He didn't care to be on the other end of that particular memory. 

Struggling, he tried to wriggle free. 

There was something hard, digging insistently between his butt cheeks. 

Doggett stilled instantly. 

Taking this as permission, Keller began to work his cock between Doggett's tightly-squeezed cheeks. 

* * *

Chapter 22 

Mulder frowned and sucked the end of his pen. The Gunmen hadn't said anything about filling in some dumb form. He thought it would be just showing the ID, sitting in a room and being taken to see Doggett. 

Not waiting endlessly in dreary rooms and answering endless questions. He glanced around, most of the other visitors seemed quite happy to comply. He assumed the ones that just sat and stared at the walls had already been through the form-filling ritual before. 

Why the hell the prison authority needed to know his car registration and Health Insurer's name, he couldn't begin to fathom. Probably all just another way for the Government to keep tabs on people. 

He ticked another irrelevant box with bad grace and looked at the next question. 

'Relationship to inmate'. 

Oh. 

Jesus... He didn't think there was a box for 'Nemesis'. 

Nope. Brother? Well, the name on the ID was different to Doggett's undercover one, so that was no good. Besides, they looked absolutely nothing like one another. 

Looking at the box at the bottom, Mulder grinned. Yes. Perfect. That would do. 

He put a firm cross in the 'Partner' section. Let them make what they wanted of that. He pushed the form back at the officer. 

"I'm done. Do I get to go in, now?" 

The man glanced at the form. "Nope. You get to wait your turn." He smiled without humor. "Take a seat. Someone will call you" 

Mulder sighed. He sat on a plastic chair by the door. Next to him, a woman with at least a dozen piercings in her ear popped her gum. 

Great. 

Well, if she was going to do that, Mulder fished a packet out of his pocket. He was going to crack some seeds. He threw one in his mouth and slid down in the chair to wait. 

* 

"Hey! What the hell d'you two think you're doin'?" 

Keller froze, his body covering Doggett's. 

"Jesus Christ! Break it up!" The hack banged his baton against the tiled wall, making Doggett jump. "You fuckin' faggots!" 

Slowly, Keller peeled himself away. As Doggett felt the dick slide from between his cheeks he sagged forward in relief. He had been a fraction of an inch away from being penetrated. Had felt his body surrendering and easing open under the steady pressure. Two more seconds... Jesus... 

"Nothin' goin' on here, Officer Millar. Nothin' at all." Keller moved away, his hands held high. Without looking, Doggett could tell the man was grinning. Smug bastard. 

With trembling arms, he pushed himself away from the wall. The water was still pouring down his body, washing away the soap. He watched it disappear down the drain, a sudden recollection of another shower flashing into his head. Another drain, some other soap, other stuff washed away. He felt his stomach roll over. 

"You know sexual contact between inmates is strictly forbidden, Keller." 

"Hey, Officer! Nothing sexual goin' on here? Uh-uh. No way. Ain't that right, Jackie?" 

Doggett gave the other man a sideways glance. The expected grin was there. He wanted to smack it off. 

"What d'you say, Costello?" 

Turning, he regarded the young guard, standing over in the dry bit, waiting for him to speak. 

Speak now, or forever hold his peace. 

One word and Keller would get a little trip to the hole and he wouldn't have to face him again. The temptation to just open up and say that he'd been about to be raped was overwhelming. Never mind he'd started to get aroused, he hadn't given his permission for what Keller had tried to do, and that made it rape in his book. 

He gripped his hands into fists to stop them trembling. 

But. 

If he squealed, he wouldn't get the information he needed. He didn't want to stay in this place waiting while Keller sat out his sentence. 

He'd not be in a rush to talk to him after that vacation, that's for damned sure. 

He ran his hand over his face and turned to crank off the faucet. 

Damn this fucking case. 

"That's right, sir. Nothin' goin' on 'cept some wrestling moves." He hated himself for lying. Hated himself even more for letting things get to where they'd got to. 

Millar narrowed his eyes. "You sure?" 

Nodding, Doggett moved past Keller, slapping the other man on the shoulder. "Quite sure. It's cool." He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Just messin' around, okay?" 

Slowly, the guard nodded. He didn't seem convinced. Doggett didn't blame him. Everyone in the room knew what had been going on. And if he didn't get out of here, that thought was going to make him throw up his breakfast. 

"Can I go?" he asked. 

Millar nodded. "Hurry up. You're late." 

Doggett frowned. "Late? I already ate breakfast." 

Millar shook his head. "Jeez, Costello, you moron. Just hurry up and get dressed. You got a visitor." 

* 

All the way to the visiting rooms, Doggett's mind raced back and forth, trying to figure out who it was wanted to see him. Was he being pulled off the case? 

Surely not. He was expecting at least two weeks to get there. Mind you, he'd almost been 'there' this morning. Not just in being fucked, but getting the information he so badly needed. If only Keller had talked just a little more. 

He took a breath while the officer in charge took his number and name. 

Now he was forced to go back and talk to the man again. And he wasn't looking forward to that. Not one little bit. 

The guard pointed at a chair. "Wait there." 

Doggett hesitated. "Who is it? Who's come to see me?" 

"What am I? You're social secretary? How the fuck should I know?" 

Doggett glanced at the computer screen. "C'mon. It's gonna say on there, yeah? Gimme a break, man." 

The man sighed. Then clicking his mouse, read down the screen. He reached a certain point and grinned. "Well, lookee here. Seems you ain't as big and tough as you look." 

Doggett scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

The hack laughed. "Shut up and siddown, you big fairy. We won't keep your 'partner' waiting too long." 

Doggett sat in the chair. Rather, his knees unbuckled and he plopped down, stunned. 

Partner? 

What the hell? Did that mean Skinner was here? A thousand reasons clattered in his head as to why Skinner would be crazy enough to turn up here, let alone to say he was his 'partner', none of them at all reassuring. He folded his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled his beard, frowning. 

What was going on? 

"Costello. J. This way." 

A door opened up and a guard with a clip-board waved him through. 

Doggett entered the visitors room. There were tables and chairs laid out, some already occupied. 

He scanned the people. Women, parents, children. No-one he recognized. 

He frowned and walked over to a spare chair and loitered, unsure of what to do. 

The door opened, Doggett looked up expectantly. A woman came in. She had far too many earrings for one person. Making her way over to a Hispanic man she grabbed him and stuck her tongue in his mouth. 

Doggett looked away, uncomfortable. 

A voice from behind him spoke: "Hi there." 

He slowly raised his eyes. Oh, Lord... No. 

Mulder stood in front of him. He blinked hard; hoping it was just a nasty illusion. 

No. It was still Mulder. 

"What the hell..." 

"I'm supposed to be your partner..." Mulder grinned and shrugged. "You think you could look just a little bit pleased to see me?" 

Doggett gaped. No... no... This was not happening. Not Mulder. Not the way he was feeling right now. Surely God wasn't that spiteful. 

"C'mon... Gimme a hug." Mulder held his arms out. 

"Jesus..." 

"Nope, just me." He wiggled his fingers. "Hey... let's get with the program, huh?" He jerked his head behind to where a guard stood watching. "Don't wanna blow your cover." 

Trance-like, Doggett stepped forward and allowed Mulder to put his arms around him. 

Slowly, he brought his own arms up to circle the other man. 

Jesus God, this felt weird. 

Brought back all sorts of memories. Ones he thought he'd strangled to death. Thoughts of standing bare-chested in his kitchen, naked in a shower... 

"That's more like it," Mulder muttered into Doggett's neck. 

Wincing at the untimely reminder of that mornings events, Doggett disentangled himself from Mulder's arms and pushed him away. At arms length, the other man stared, studying his face. Doggett knew he must look dreadful, battered and scruffy. 

"Jesus, Doggett," he whispered. Indicating the table and chairs he shook his head. "You look like shit. Sit down before you fall down." 

Doggett grabbed a chair; he didn't need Mulder pointing out how awful he looked. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled, pulling a chair towards himself. 

"I'm checking up on you." 

"What?" 

He was suddenly very aware of the state he was in. "I'm fine," he grunted, sitting carefully. 

"Well you look like someone used you for target practise." 

Snorting, Doggett shrugged. "That's about the size of it." 

"Jeez..." Mulder looked at him, this way and that. "Good job Skinner isn't here, he'd blow an artery." 

At the mention of the name, a sudden spike of ice stabbed his guts. "Is he all right?" 

Mulder nodded. "He's fine." There was a grin. "He sends his love." 

Doggett stared stony-faced across the stained tabletop. 

"Okay.. Okay.. He didn't exactly say that. Not in so many words." He grinned. "But you know Skinner..." 

"Yes. I do." 

A tinge of color crept up Mulder's face. "Yeah... Well. He's fine, okay?" 

"Okay." Doggett stared, enjoying the other man's discomfort. "So why are you here? Is the case a bust?" 

Clearing his throat, Mulder looked down and traced an inkspot on the table. 

"No. The case is still active. This isn't about the case." 

"Then what?" 

Mulder sighed. "Skinner wanted to come, but Kersh has his nuts in a vice." He looked up. "Scully was gonna do it, but she knows the guy who runs this place." He grinned. "Met him at some conference..." 

"I know. She said." 

"Oh." 

He frowned. "Get on with it, Mulder. Why are you here?" 

The other man was suddenly very quiet, very still. Except for two of his fingers, which rubbed at the spot. 

"It's kinda sensitive..." 

"Don't fuck about, Mulder. Get on with it." 

"Your sister..." 

Leaning forward, Doggett put his hand over Mulder's restless digits. "What about her? Is she okay?" 

"Yes..." He pulled his hand away. "Jeez! What is it about you two and holding my hand?" 

"Mulder," Doggett growled. He would reach over and beat the information out of him any second now. "I'm having a very bad day... 

You might wanna get to the fuckin' point." 

Mulder started at the bad language. 

"Yeah, okay." He went to put his hand back on the table, but thought better of it. "She called Skinner. It's your dad." 

Doggett sat back, all the anger bleeding out of him. He couldn't bring himself to ask if the old man was all right. Clearly he wasn't. 

He took a couple of breaths. 

"Is he... Is he dead?" 

Mulder shook his head. "No. He had a fall. Broke his hip." 

Doggett felt a minor surge of relief. Not so bad. He'd done that before. No biggie. 

He studied Mulder's face. There wasn't much reassurance in it. He licked his lips and forced his mouth to move. 

"There's something else." Not a question. 

Mulder nodded. 

Shit. 

Doggett felt his breakfast rise for the second time. He swallowed it down. 

"And?" 

Mulder sighed. "Well, Sal told Skinner that she didn't think your dad was doing so good. She said the doctors think he might have had a minor stroke." 

The chatter in the room pinged in radar-like echo to bounce inside his head. 

A stroke. 

His Grandmama had those. One after the other until she was nothing but a drooling, palsied jumble of clothes that frightened the living shit out of a six-year-old Johnny Doggett. 

The thought of his father lying in a bed with spit trailing down his chin, making creepy noises freaked him out. 

"Oh, shit..." His skin felt clammy, his stomach tight. 

"It's not, you know... Desperate, yet," Mulder was saying, from the other end of a long tunnel. 

"People get over these things, get better." 

Doggett looked at him. "You wouldn't be here, telling me this if Sal thought he was gonna get better, would you?" 

Mulder wriggled. "Well..." 

"I thought so." The food in his belly lay solid and unpleasant. A stroke. 

"Thing is..." Mulder spread his hands out. "Skinner tried to get Kersh to let him get word to you, but got his balls shot off. 

Apparently, this is Kersh's little baby, he doesn't want you freaking out and ruining the bust." 

Doggett felt his face darken. "He what?" 

"I know... It stinks. Skinner nearly imploded. So what we have here is a flagrant breach of command. Me being here - telling you." He raised an eyebrow. "But Skinner wanted you to be able to make the choice about whether or not you're going to want to blow the case and go see your dad. And if you do decide that, you need to do it in such a way not to raise suspicion, you know?" 

Doggett nodded slowly. He understood. "I get the picture." 

"Okay." 

They sat in silence, Doggett was aware of Mulder watching him, but didn't care. His mind was busy putting his dad's head on Grandmama's body. 

"Shit..." He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, wincing when he touched the bruises. 

"I'm sorry." 

Doggett looked up. Mulder shrugged, but didn't add anything more. 

The minutes ticked but, neither man speaking. Mulder didn't seem perturbed by the silence and Doggett couldn't bring himself to care. 

Finally, dragging his innate good manners up by the scruff, Doggett raised his eyes the other man's. 

"Thank you. For coming here, I mean." 

Mulder looked uncomfortable. "S'okay." 

"I know you're risking a lot. I appreciate it." 

Wriggling, Mulder waved a hand. "S'nothing. Glad I could help out." 

He cleared his throat. "What can I tell Skinner? Are you going to back out?" 

Doggett thought about it. "I don't know, yet. I need to consider things." 

"Right." 

A bell rang out. Visitors began to rise. 

"Time to go," Mulder said. 

"Uh-huh." Doggett stood up. His mind was still rattling away, throwing questions at him. He stood with his hands in his jeans, not knowing quite what to do with himself. Mulder remained where he was. 

"Okay, then." Doggett shrugged, wondering if he was going to have to ask the other man to go. 

The other visitors trickled out. 

Mulder stood in front of him, waiting. 

Doggett broke. "What?" 

"Any messages?" 

Oh. 

"Yeah..." Doggett thought for a moment then frowned. "Tell Walt..." 

"Yes?" 

"Tell him..." He sighed. Shit. He couldn't say what he wanted, not to Mulder. No way. He scratched the back of his head. Damn. 

"Yeah, I know. I'll give him your love." 

Doggett looked up in surprise. Mulder was smiling at him. A real smile, not one of those shit-eating grins of his. A real, honest-to-goodness smile. 

Wonders would never cease. 

He felt a slight blush tweak his ears. Not as much as he might have imagined, given the circumstances. "Erm... Thanks. 'Preciate it." 

"Okay." 

"Come on, ladies, break it up..." Howell wandered into the room, her nightstick tapping the tables as she passed. "Or I'm gonna get jealous, Jackie." 

Doggett glared at her. 

"Wow... friend of yours?" Mulder whispered, his eyebrow rising. 

Doggett grunted. "No fuckin' way." 

The stick tapped the table. "C'mon, Jackie-baby. Don't wanna keep me waiting, do you?" 

"Just sayin' goodbye, Officer Howell." 

Giving the woman a venomous look, Doggett reached out and grabbed Mulder by the shirt and yanked him close. Fuck Howell and her nasty habits. He's show her how completely uninterested he was in anything she could give him. 

Mulder's surprised arms came up to hold his waist. 

"Wow, 'Jackie'. This is so sudden," he muttered, their faces almost nose-to-nose. 

"Shut up and help me out." 

"Sure thing." Mulder's arms held on tighter, then shifting to cup the back of his neck, and his ass. "This what you had in mind?" 

"Uh-huh." Doggett nodded. "Now kiss me." 

He swore he felt the whole of Mulder's body jerk at his words. Any other time he'd smile, but now he just needed to establish some stuff in front of Howell, real quickly. 

He pulled away slightly, shut his eyes and offering up a quick apology to Skinner, kissed Mulder hard, on the mouth. 

There was time to register the taste of sunflowers on Mulder's lips, the rigidity of posture and the sharp intake of breath through his nose as he moved his mouth a little, then Doggett couldn't do it any more. He released the mouth under his and pushed Mulder away. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ... You're a faggot?" Howell shoved a chair under one of the tables. 

Doggett jerked his head towards the door. "You'd better go. See you soon." 

Standing with a stunned expression on his face, Mulder nodded and took a step back. 

"Yeah," he whispered. "Gotta go..." 

Doggett stepped back, away from the approaching Howell. "You pass that message on to Walt, y'hear?" 

"Yeah..." Mulder stumbled slightly as he made his way towards the door. "I will." 

And with a last look of amazement, Mulder was gone, leaving him alone with Howell. 

Doggett shoved his hands back in his jeans and sloped off towards the other door. 

He nearly made it. 

The baton scalded a line across his shoulders. 

"Just hold it there, a second, Jackie." 

He froze, wincing, the aching line across his back holding him still as effectively as reins. 

"What?" 

"That little display for my benefit, huh?" She walked around to stand at his side. 

Her hand came up. He tried not to show it hurt as she took his beard in her fingers and twisted his head to look at her. 

"I hope it was, because I wanna tell you a little secret..." 

She leaned in, inches from his face. "I don't care if you're a faggot, Costello. In fact, the thought of you and your boyfriend getting it together, makes me wet." 

She licked her lips and grinned. "And I'm gonna make it my business to see you do something about that." 

* * *

Chapter 23 

Skinner rested his glasses on the table and scrubbed his eyes, holding the phone to his ear. 

"Hi Sal. It's Walt. I wondered how Mr. Doggett was doing?" 

"Hey, Walt. Nice to hear from you." Skinner could hear the exhaustion in her voice from several states away. 

"There's no change. In his condition or his state of mind." 

"Still not eating?" 

"Nope. He's on a saline drip, but he's losin' weight fast." 

"Oh, Sal. I'm sorry to hear that." 

"You managed to get word to Johnny, yet?" 

"Sort of..." He hesitated. 

"So you called him, then?" 

"Not exactly. My direct superior gave express instructions against that...." 

Sal's indignant noises exploded down the phone and Skinner held up a hand unconsciously. 

"Hang on... wait. I did get the news to him. I sent someone else to speak with him.." 

"Oh. Okay, then." She sounded slightly mollified. "What'd he say?" 

Skinner nibbled his thumb. This wasn't going to be easy. Somehow he had to break the news to Sal that Doggett was undecided as to whether or not to come out from undercover. 

What was the best way to say that she might not be seeing her brother until it was too late? 

Scratch that. There was no 'best' way. 

"He..." 

Fuck. 

Skinner sighed. Christ, this was tough. 

"You don't have to say it, Walt. I can guess by your voice. He isn't coming, is he?" 

"I don't know that for certain, Sal. He just said he'd have to think it over." 

"Fuck-a-duck, Walt! There's not much to think about! Our father's dying!" 

"I know..." He pinched his eyes. Shit, this was horrible. "Look, Sal. It's hard for him at the moment..." 

"It's no fuckin' picnic here, either." 

"I guess not. But if John ditches this operation, the consequences..." 

"The consequences for not coming home in time are pretty steep, too." 

"Sal. It's his career. Our boss is threatening to can his ass if he fucks this thing up." 

"He can't do that!" 

"Oh, yes he can; and if those higher up find out I got word to John, it's both our jobs." 

There was a moment's silence. 

"Fuck." 

Resisting the temptation to reach for the scotch bottle, Skinner leaned back in the chair and rested his head on the chairback. 

"Quite. It's not an easy decision for him to make." 

"Yeah. I get that." 

They sat in silence for a minute, both lost in thought. 

"How's your mother holding up?" 

Sal snorted. "Pretty good. She's in 'bossy' mode right now. Ordering everyone around, getting on the doctor's nerves. Getting on mine," 

she added in a mutter. 

Skinner smiled. "Hang in there. I expect she's just reacting to the situation." 

Sal grunted. "Whatever. Look, I gotta go, she's on the prowl. I'll call tomorrow, let you know how things are. Tell me if you hear from John, yes?" 

"I will. I hope I do." 

"Okay, babe. Thanks for calling." 

"I'm thinking about you all. 'Night, Sal." 

Leaning forward to rest the receiver back, Skinner glanced over at the bottle that was staring at him from the cabinet. 

There'd been more than enough shit flying about today without the prospect of another phone call like that tomorrow. God, he hoped Doggett could get out of there soon. For everyone's sake. 

* 

Doggett hurried along the corridor with a clipboard in his hand and a sense of relief pretty much equal to the one he'd felt in the showers earlier. Howell had not been impressed when Sister Pete came into the waiting-area and asked him to deliver the board to her office on his way back to Em City. Not impressed at all. The two women stood nose-to-nose like a couple of alley-cats squaring off over a mouse. 

What you might call a narrow squeak for his ass. 

He glanced behind, just to check Howell wasn't following him. God, that woman gave him the shivers. 

Running up the stairs two at a time, he wondered if he was going to be able to keep out of her way long enough to get Keller to spill it about the judges, or if she was determined to get him one way or another. 

As if he didn't have enough on his mind, right now. 

Jesus... Dad. 

He slowed up, pausing for a minute. 

God, Sal must be out of her mind, coping with this all by herself. He wondered how his mother was dealing with it. Was she still mad at him, or would she let bygones be bygones in the light of his dad's condition? Or would she maintain that well-practiced and stony silence? 

Yeah. He wouldn't need two guesses for that one He knocked on the doorframe of the office. 

"Come!" Beecher peered around the gap. "Hey, Jack. How' it hanging?" 

Doggett smiled and dropped the clipboard on the table. "Down to my knees, thanks for askin'." 

Beecher laughed. "You know, I like you, Costello. You might look like the scruffiest pup in the pound, but you've still got a sense of humor. That's a major achievement in this place." 

Doggett grinned. "Tell me about it." He hesitated and then frowned. "And whaddya mean, the scruffiest pup?" 

"Please..." Beecher waved a hand up and down. "Not exactly the look GQ is going for this season." 

Doggett glanced down at himself. "Oh, I don't know. I heard 'Heroin Chic' was in." 

"Last year, man... Last year. And let me tell you, that's more 'Downtown Bum' than anything substance-related." 

Doggett mock-pouted. "I'm hurt." 

"That's apparent." He raised an eyebrow. "You seem to attract trouble." 

"Ain't that the truth," Doggett muttered, rubbing a hand over his beard. "I had a chat with that guy today. You know... The one who isn't your friend?" 

Beecher looked puzzled, then his face changed. "You mean Keller." 

"That's the one." Doggett took a gamble. "What's the story with him, anyway?" 

"No story." Beecher turned back to his table. 

"I kinda get the impression you're not too fond of this guy. You wanna tell me why?" 

"No. I'm busy. Get lost." 

Doggett blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"I said I have work to, beat it." He leaned back in his chair. "Guard!" 

Doggett held up his hands. "Jeez! Okay, man. I was just curious, is all." 

Rolling his eyes at the back of Beecher's head, he left the room. 

Touchy, or what? Plan A to get insider info on Keller was a bust. He sighed as he made his way back to the pod area. Looks like it was Plan B, then. 

He winced. 

* * *

Chapter 24. 

With his lunchtime pasta sitting heavily in his belly, Doggett prowled around looking for his target. 

It had taken all his resolve to force the meal down. With everything buzzing around inside his head, he would have skipped eating altogether, but he figured he might need the energy, and there was the slight bonus that it washed away the last hint of sunflower seeds. 

Although that might just have been his imagination. 

He scanned the small crowds in the rec area. Beecher was sitting with a book in his hand, clearly not reading, but staring at Doggett as he walked across the room. 

Doggett nodded a greeting, not totally surprised when it wasn't returned. Suit yourself, he thought, walking past the other man, not meeting his gaze again. Two can play that game. 

He paused. 

Keller was sitting right at the front of the little circle of chairs. 

Okay. Here goes Plan B, if not from outer space, then definitely left-field. 

He walked over to where Keller was lounging. "Hey." 

"Hey, Jackie." The other man grinned and patted the chair next to him. 'Take a load off." 

Seating himself, he sat and watched the silent television. 

"I've been thinkin'," Doggett began. 

"Dangerous occupation, Jackie." 

Doggett smiled. "Maybe. But then some things are worth thinkin' about." 

Keller shifted to look at him and grinned. "Oh yeah?" 

Doggett settled himself in the plastic bucket chair . "I was thinkin' about what you said, earlier. About money. And changin' the way things are." He held Keller's gaze, feeling a light sweat break out over his body. "And about how much it costs to make those changes." 

He willed Keller to take the bait, to ask how much he was willing to pay. To give up a few names. Then he could get out of this place. 

"You think you have enough money, then?" 

Doggett shrugged. "Maybe. Depends how much we're talkin'. I got a fair bit tucked away." 

"You know, it's gonna take a lot." 

"Uh-huh. I figure. No problem." He tilted his head. "How much is your cut?" 

Keller's smile broadened. "Well, you know I got overhead..." He gestured at their surroundings. 

Doggett laughed. "Clearly." He sobered. "So... How much?" 

"You serious?" 

"Very. I gotta get this 'Hang 'em High' guy off my case. Literally." 

Keller stretched, leaning back in his chair. Doggett noted the muscles, the strength in the compact body. He sincerely hoped things never got a chance to get ugly between the two of them. He wasn't sure he'd come out on top. 

"Well, I usually figure around ten tho', Jackie boy. For my unique information, you know? Cash deposit." He glanced sideways at Doggett, gauging his reaction. 

"Fair enough." Doggett nodded calmly. "So. What's the deal?" 

Keller leaned towards him, and paused as a group of the Italian inmates wandered over to the tv area. 

"We can't talk now. Too many ears, you know?" 

Doggett forced down a ripple of impatience. "Look, man. I gotta make some calls to my brief, get the money wired over to you..." He widened his eyes. "I got phone privileges tonight. Gimme some names, man." 

Keller laughed softly. "I'd give you some names, Jackie baby... But you gotta give me something, too, y'know?" 

"Yeah. I told you. I can get the money wired to any account you name..." 

"Yeah, yeah..." 

Abruptly, Keller stood up. Keller looked down and grinned. "Maybe you'd like to walk this way, Mr. Costello. I think we can close this deal." 

"Huh?" 

Keller winked. "Why don't you step into my office? We can smooth out the details in private..." 

He winked and glanced down, Doggett's eyes following. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of Keller's pants. 

Oh, Jesus. 

Watching the other man walk away, Doggett decided he really didn't like the way Plan B was shaping up. Reluctantly, he stood up and began to slowly walk after Keller. 

Shit. 

After a moments searching, he found Keller standing in the semi-darkness of what looked and smelled like a stationary closet. Doggett frowned. 

"Isn't it kinda dark in here?" He reached for the light switch. 

"I like it like that." 

"Oh." Doggett's hand fell to his side. "Whatever." He deliberately stayed at the other end of the store room. "So... You gonna tell me who I need to talk to?" 

Keller crooked a finger. "C'mere." 

Doggett swallowed and stepped closer. "Yeah?" He tried not to squirm while the other man stared at him, looking his body up and down. He could do this... he could do this. Just focus on getting out. 

He opened his mouth to speak. 

Keller jerked his chin towards him. "Take your shirt off." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. I wanna see your body." 

Doggett's hands moved to obey, ignoring his common sense that told him to turn around and run. He pulled his tee shirt off by the collar and tossed it on a shelf. 

"There." He held his hands out to either side. "Satisfied?" 

"Not yet." The other man looked him up and down, the scrutiny making Doggett squirm with embarrassment. He could feel his skin goosing up in the chill of the room. 

Keeping his eyes pinned to Doggett's; Keller slowly brought a hand up to slide the zipper of his fly down. The noise seemed to echo in the little room. Doggett's body shivered slightly. He told himself it was because the room was so cold. 

He watched as Keller pulled his cock out from his pants. 

Oh shit. The world had suddenly narrowed to this one tiny room, the two feet of space between them. 

Keller grinned. 

"Suck me." 

"Y..you what?" Doggett was ashamed that his voice cracked. 

"Suck me, Jack." Stroking himself, Keller thrust his hips forward. "Then we'll talk." 

"You're kiddin'..." 

Never missing a beat as he stroked, Keller grinned. "Uh-uh. Never joke about sex." 

"I... I..." He gulped down air. "I don't..." 

"Oh yeah, you do, Jackie. Y'see... that's part of the deal. I get to finish what I started this morning." 

Doggett's belly rolled over. 

"So you get on your knees and suck me... Then maybe we can talk." 

A hundred reasons why he shouldn't do anything but turn around and walk out of that store room bounced up and down in Doggett's head. A hundred an one reasons, beginning and ending with his obligation to Skinner, but all of those reasons were overshadowed by the image of his Grandmama in her food-stained bedjacket and the picture of Sal, sitting in some hospital room, trying to cope with their mother by herself. 

Impossibly, those two images were managing to beat down all his good reasons and intentions. 

Guilt was an amazing thing, he thought. Two different flavors of the same thing could crucify you. 

He looked down at what Keller had in his hand. 

It was just a cock. 

He had one just like it. So did Skinner. No big deal. 

He stepped closer and felt Keller put his hand on his bare shoulder. 

He could do this. 

His knees unbuckled and took him to the ground. 

He could do this so he could go and see his dad. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth. 

  * Printing off the list of flights and connections Skinner folded the paper and tucked it into his jeans pocket. The minute Doggett called to say he was out, he could have them booked on a flight and on their way to the hospital within the hour. All he had to do was wait. 



Yeah. That was all. Wait. 

He paced across the kitchen; almost switching the kettle on, then changing his mind and the last minute, opened the fridge for a soda. 

Dr. Pepper. Doggett's soda of choice. Bypassing the familiar red can, he reached for a Sprite. 

He wasn't going to torture himself. 

Kim had totally misjudged his reasons for taking the rest of the week off sick. She had assumed it was because of his family, and he let her think that. 

Hopefully, she'd spread the word. Hopefully, the secretarial grapevine would get the news up to Kersh's office. He didn't give a shit if Kersh thought he was a pathetic sonof abitch for needing time off to cope with a bereavement two years old. It suited him perfectly. He wanted to be able to be with John when he went to see his dad. Wanted to be there for him. 

He propped his feet up on the table as he drank his soda. Doggett would have ragged him to death if he could see this. He always gave him a hard time about using his table as a footrest, especially with boots on. 

He smiled to himself. Maybe he'd do it when Doggett got home, just to see his reaction. 

The phone rang. He snatched it up, his heart pounding. 

"Skinner." 

"Hi Walt." 

He tried not to sigh. "Hi Dana. How are things?" 

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Is it true?" 

He stomach fizzed with the contents of the can in his hand. Oh shit... Had he missed a call from Doggett while he was out grocery-shopping? 

"Is what true?" 

"About your parents?" 

Placing the cool can to his forehead, Skinner closed his eyes, his stomach calming down. 

He stalled for thinking-time. "What do you mean?" 

"Apparently, word on the shop-floor, is that you're having a hard time coming to terms with your parents' death." She paused, waiting for him to speak. 

When he didn't reply, she tried another approach. 

"Are you eating, Walt?" 

He chuckled. "Yes, Dana. I am eating. I assure you." 

"So is what I'm hearing true, or is it just a spot of creative-thinking on your part?" 

Stung slightly, he put the can on the arm of the chair. "That's unkind." 

"So it's true?" 

He sighed. John was right. She was like a terrier. 

"Yes. Partly. They did pass away. But I'm not having any sort of breakdown over it. It was 2 years ago." 

No breakdown this year, he thought to himself, remembering a month of lost weekends the year before. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." 

That's because I didn't want to have this conversation, he thought. 

"I didn't make it public knowledge at the time." 

"It is now. The secretarial pool is simply buzzing with sympathetic noises." 

"I bet." 

"They all think it's very sweet." 

He snorted. God, going back was going to be an agony of well-meaning glances and touches. 

He'd thought he'd avoided all that, two years ago. 

There was a pause down the phone. 

"Was it unexpected? Their death?" 

About as expected as being side-swiped by a cross-city bus on a Tuesday can be. 

"Yes. It was." He wondered why this was so hard for him to talk to her about. He cleared his throat. "Car wreck." 

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry for your loss." 

"Thank you. But really... it's okay. I'm okay." 

There was a slight sound that could have been a snort, but he couldn't be sure. 

"Anyway..." He ran his finger down the outside of the can, gathering condensation. "I booked some personal time. I want to be free to go with John.... You know. If he wants company." 

"That's good. I'm sure he'll appreciate that." 

"Yeah. Hope so." 

"No more news from Sal?" 

"No. There's not much change. Still a steady downward thing." 

"I hope John hurries up. He might regret not saying goodbye, otherwise." 

Skinner stayed silent. He couldn't say anything to that. 

"Well, I just wanted to ask you if you're feeling up to a meal?" 

"I don't think I should..." 

"Not eating out. I guessed you wouldn't want to be too far from the phone. I was thinking we could bring something over. Eat at yours. 

What do you think?" 

He thought about it. He supposed he had to eat. And he reckoned he owed Mulder one for taking the message to Doggett. 

"Okay. I could use some company. But I'll cook. You just turn up after work, okay?" 

There was a silence that he could guess was shock. 

"I can cook, Agent Scully. I'm not that incapable." 

"I... I was just..." 

"I know what you were. Is turkey lasagna okay with you both?" 

"Er... yes. That would be great. I'll bring a salad, okay?" 

"Fine. About seven?" 

"Deal. Looking forward to it." 

Placing the phone back. He mentally ran through the things he needed for the meal. 

Smiling, he thanked Dana silently. He could use the distraction, as well as the company. 

* 

He could do this....He could do this... 

Shit. 

Keller smelled different from Skinner. 

He felt different. And he sure as hell tasted different. Doggett screwed up his eyes and tried not to gag. 

Half of his mind was telling him to just swallow Keller down and get it over with, the other half was screaming that he was out of his freakin' gourd to be doing this. Never mind unsafe sex - how was he going to be able to look Skinner in the face, afterwards? 

He racket inside his head thankfully drowned out the noises his mouth was making. 

Almost smothered the noises Keller was making. 

Bracing his hands on the other man's hips as he thrust hard into his mouth, Doggett risked a glance up. Keller stood with his arms outstretched between two shelves, his head thrown back, an expression of pained ecstasy on his face that matched the Christ figure on his shoulder. 

Any sense of pride for giving so much pleasure was killed by the knowledge that anything he had learned about sucking another man's cock was learned from just one man. 

He closed his eyes as Keller brought his hands down to hold his head and thrust harder. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes and told himself that it was because Keller was hurting him. 

Strong fingers ran through his hair, scratching his scalp. 

Hard dick ramming into his throat. No love in this act. No care, no affection... Just demanding, rough sex. 

It was hard to breath. 

"Jesus... Put him down, Chris." 

The voice behind made Doggett jump. He tried to turn his head to look, but Keller held his head in a vice. 

"Just breakin' him in, Toby..." Another hard thrust to the back of Doggett's throat. "Why? You jealous?" 

"No. I'm over you, big time. I just don't like you doing this." 

"What? This?" He jerked his hips. The teeth of his zipper caught in Doggett's beard, snagging hairs out painfully. Doggett struggled, gagging and choking, the prickling morphing to tears of pain. 

"Mostly." Beecher's voice moved closer. "But I'm more interested in how you managed to get him on his knees in the first place." 

Keller slapped Doggett's face. "Hey! Jackie loves givin' head, don't you, man?" 

Wrenching himself free, Doggett pushed against Keller's hips. His wet dick fell out of his mouth, trailing spit down to the floor between them. He leaned on his hands coughing and retching, his whole body wracked with misery and shame. 

"Doesn't look to me like he enjoyed that too much." Beecher moved to stand at Doggett's side. He reached a hand down to his shoulder. "Get up, Jack. You look kind of stupid down there." 

Doggett shook the hand off and staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He glared at Beecher, torn between grateful thanks and absolute fury for seeing him like this. 

Keller's taste roared in his mouth. 

"What did he offer you, Jack?" 

"Hey!" Keller stood, his semi-erect penis still protruding from his fly. "You got a nasty mind, Toby!" 

"What was it? Drugs? Money?" 

Doggett shook his head. He wouldn't throw up. Not here. 

"Nothin' like that," he growled out, his voice wobbling, rough from the treatment it had endured. 

"Infor..." He coughed up some spit. "Information." 

"Oh... I get it." Beecher held up a hand. "You got an appeal running, I bet." 

Doggett nodded. 

"Let me guess. He told you he knew judges who could get you a deal, right?" He turned to Keller. "Jesus, Chris. That old one? Don't you get tired of trying to reel in fresh meat with that line?" 

Keller laughed. "Hey, man... If it works, you know what I mean?" 

Doggett's world screamed down in a bright pinwheel of agony. He swayed, his balance uncertain. A line? 

He was on his knees because of some line of bullshit? 

He tasted copper in his mouth. 

Beecher folded his arms. "You're one sick bastard, Keller." 

"Whatever." Tucking himself back in his pants, Keller shrugged. "Not my problem." 

Doggett stared at the other man, his guts heaving and on the verge of throwing up his pasta all over his boots. It was a lie? Kersh's big tip-off was a crock? 

Fucking hell... 

His belly roiled. He took a deep breath and wondered if he was going to puke, or smash his fist into Keller's smug face. 

There was a movement at his side, and Beecher thrust his tee shirt at him. 

"Get out of here, Jack. Go take a shower and lie-down. You look like shit." 

Doggett turned slowly. His neck still ached from the force of Keller's thrusts. 

"What?" 

"Go. Get out." 

He looked down dumbly at the white shirt in his hands. 

"Yeah, why don't you take off, man. Give Toby an' me some privacy." 

Keller reached out and shoved him in the chest, making him stumble back a step. Something uncoiled inside Doggett. He raised his eyes to look at the grinning man in front of him. 

Decision made. He wasn't going to waste time puking. This sonofabitch had got him on his knees sucking him off for no reason... His fists balled up, adrenaline coursed through him. 

He growled and made to move forward. 

"Out." Beecher's hand came up to rest on his chest. "Now. While you still can." 

Doggett pushed against the hand. 

"Jack!" The restraining hand snapped up and slapped his cheek. 

Startled, Doggett stared at the other man. The slap hadn't been hard, just shocking. 

"Beat it. Now." Beecher's face held a threat. Not to him, Doggett thought, but for Keller. 

Maybe the bastard was gonna get what he deserved. Too bad it wouldn't be him who dished it out, but then he admitted he wasn't in the best shape for a fight, right now. 

Stepping back, he stuffed his arms inside his shirt, not trusting himself to look at Keller, for fear of losing control. Lifting up to put his head through the neck of the tee, he locked eyes with Beecher. 

The other man nodded back. Seemed Beecher had some private business to sort out. Doggett didn't think it was going to involve Beecher getting down on his knees. 

He turned and left the room without looking back. 

* * *

Chapter 25. 

Skinner pushed his plate away. He didn't think he could manage to eat the enormous heap of food Scully loaded on it, but he was pleasantly surprised to find his appetite had returned. 

"That was great. But that's it." He shook his head. "No more." 

Scully regarded him over her intertwined fingers. "I'm glad to see you're back to something like normal." 

Across the table, Mulder snorted. "That was normal?" He flicked a piece of carrot. "My god... I thought Doggett ate a lot, but what you just put away..." He whistled. 

"Makes up for the past few days," Scully said, replacing the carrot on the plate. "Besides. It's good to see a man eating properly." She clucked disapprovingly. "You're just a grazer, Mulder." 

"I like to pace myself," he replied, leaning back in the chair. 

Skinner balled up his napkin and dropped it on the plate. "I happen to be very fond of lasagna." 

"Clearly." 

Skinner gave him a look. "You don't recognise good food when you're presented with it, Mulder." 

Feigning surprise, the other man clasped his hand to his chest. "That was good food? Oh, my God. I'm glad you told me!" 

"Mulder..." Scully shook her head. 

Skinner looked at him. "That was one of John's recipes." 

"Oh." Mulder shifted in his chair. "I didn't know." He thought for a moment and looked up. "He can cook?" 

"Very well, as it happens." Skinner smiled. "I was a very meat and potatoes kind of chef until he came along. I suppose you could say he educated me." 

There was a long moment when every mind at the table interpreted that statement in an altogether different way. Mulder made a strange sort of noise. 

Skinner felt himself blush. He stood up and began collecting the plates to cover his embarrassment. 

"Here, let me help..." Scully grabbed a couple of glasses. They took things through to the small kitchen and stacked the dishwasher in companionable silence. 

"Is there anything for dessert?" Mulder remained in his seat, watching the clearing up going on around him. 

Skinner paused, the lasagna dish in his hand. "Dessert?" 

"Well, I sort of thought there might be...' "Have you not eaten sufficient supper?" Scully peered down at him, hands on hips. 

"Yeah... Well. I just..." He wriggled in his chair. "I'd have thought there'd be at least ice cream." 

"Do I look like an 'ice cream' kind of person?" Skinner asked. 

"No... But Doggett is." Mulder shrugged. 

Skinner stared. At length he blinked and nodded. "There's Rocky Road in the freezer. Help yourself." 

Grinning, Mulder got up and made straight for the kitchen. 

Skinner stood at the table, lost in thought. 

"I'm sorry." Scully moved to stand opposite. "He's a child, sometimes." 

He nodded. "I know. But he can't help it." He smiled to show he really was okay. "Coffee?" 

"That'd be great." 

"Mulder! While you're in there, put the kettle on and make some coffee, would you?" Skinner winked at her and indicated the sofa. "Shall we?" 

"Why not?" 

"Where's the..." Mulder's voice yelled through. 

"In the cupboard over the sink." 

"Oh." 

Scully looked sideways at him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

"It's to do with his learning curve." 

"Pardon me?" 

"I'm trying to increase his Domestic Learning Curve." 

"Oh." Scully shook her head, smiling. "I see." 

There was a thud from the kitchen. "How do I..." 

"There is a switch on the side." 

"Okay." 

Scully raised an eyebrow. "Are you really sure..." 

Skinner shrugged. "It can't hurt to try." 

"Where are the...?" 

Skinner put his head back and sighed. "In the second drawer down." 

"Oh." 

He glanced at Scully. "Maybe you're right." 

"Well... In my experience..." 

Another thud. "How many...?" 

"Three!" Skinner thundered. 

"Okay.. Okay." The disembodied voice tutted. 

Skinner rolled his eyes. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea." 

"You don't say?" She sighed. "Sometimes it's better to just accept the status quo." 

There was a crash from the kitchen and Skinner closed his eyes. "Shit..." 

He heaved himself forward and rested his hands on his knees. "I'd better go and save the rest of my crockery." 

Smiling, Scully nodded. "You know what all these years with Mulder have taught me?" 

"What?" 

"That 'Domestic Learning Curve' you mentioned..." 

"Uh-huh?" 

She sliced her hand through the air. As something else crashed in the kitchen. 

"It's pretty much flatline, Walter." 

* 

Doggett loitered impatiently by the bank of telephones. 

This was the first time he'd been allowed to use them and he was itching inside to speak to Skinner. It'd felt like months since they'd last spoken. He craved the sound of that deep voice. 

He shuffled forward. 

"Hey, man! You tryin' to crawl up my ass, or something?" The man in front of him flapped his hand. "Back the fuck off!" 

Doggett muttered and took a step back. He jammed his hands in his pockets. 

Jeez! It was taking so long! He cracked his neck from side to side, relishing the pops. The man to his right gave him a sour look. He smiled; thinking that was how Skinner reacted when he did that. 

God he missed him. 

He glanced up at the clock, hoping he was going to catch him in. 

Might not be back from work yet, those late meetings were a bitch. 

* 

"I'm sorry. I'll replace them." Mulder muttered from where he was perched on the edge of his chair. 

Skinner sighed and put his mug down. "There's no need, Mulder. They were just regular mugs. No big deal." 

"But..." 

"I said it doesn't matter." 

Mulder sighed into his mug. "Doggett's gonna be pissed." 

"No, he won't." 

Scully raised her eyebrow. "Why's that?" 

"I broke his favorite mug." Mulder pulled a face. 

"How do you know it was..." 

**"USMC."**

"Ah." Scully shook her head. "Oh dear." 

"It was my mug, Mulder." 

Scully sniggered. 

"Oh." Mulder looked sideways at him. "Sorry. I'll..." 

"Mulder!" 

Skinner was losing patience with this new 'improved' contrite Fox Mulder. Much as he might hate himself for admitting it, he preferred the old 'fuck it' version. 

"The mug was not important. I can get another one. Neither was the Snoopy mug, which, incidentally, was John's. I can get him another one of those. They are just objects. Not important. Get it?" 

"But..." 

Skinner held up a finger. "No. No buts. You will repeat after me..." 

The phone rang, interrupting what he was going to say. He snatched it up, scowling. 

"What?" 

There was a pause. 

"Walt?" 

Skinner's mouth dropped open. That was just about the last person he was expecting. 

"John?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two sit up. "Where are you? Are you out? What's going on?" He took a breath. 

"S'okay, Walt. Really. I'm still here. Still inside." There was an edge to Doggett's voice that tore at Skinner's insides. 

"You okay?" he said softly. "You sound tired." 

A short chuff of laughter. "It's been and 'interestin' few days, to say the least. But I'm... okay. I guess." 

He didn't sound too convinced of that, Skinner thought. In fact, he'd lay money on the other man being just this side of seriously pissed off. 

"I'm done, here, Walt. It's over. I'm comin' home tomorrow." 

Skinner couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, he knew he must look like a drooling idiot. 

"Yeah? Really?" He waved a hand and mouthed to the others 'coming home tomorrow'. 

"That's great, John! You got the names, then?" 

Doggett snorted down the phone and Skinner could just picture the face that went with it. 

"It was a set-up, Walt. A bust. No such thing." 

"What!" 

"Just some lying sack of shit tryin' to get money out of those desperate enough to fall for it." 

"Shit..." Skinner rubbed the back of his neck. This news was going to hit Kersh in the balls. He grinned. "Love to see Kersh's face when you tell him." 

"Yeah." 

There was no triumph in Doggett's voice. That bothered him. 

"John? Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Yeah. I just..." 

"Go on." 

Doggett sighed. "I just miss ya, y'know?" 

Skinner nodded. "I know. I do too." 

He saw Scully indicate to Mulder, and the two of them got up and went into the kitchen. He appreciated her discretion. Mulder wouldn't have thought of it by himself. He waited until they were out of earshot. 

"I miss you real bad, Big Dog." He rubbed his eyes. "God, I'm so sorry I couldn't come and tell you about your dad in person." 

"I know. How is he?" 

Skinner pulled a face. "Not so good. He's... Well he's not fighting it, you know." 

"Yeah. I get it." 

Skinner heard the slight catch in Doggett's voice and his heart ached for the other man. 

"Oh, hell, John. Look. The minute you get out of that door, I'm going to be waiting there in a rental to get you to the airport, you hear?" 

Doggett chuckled. "My knight in shining armor, huh?" 

"You bet." 

"I like that." 

There was another moment of quiet. Then Doggett sighed. "Look. I only got a few seconds left. I wanna..." He paused. 

"John?" Skinner didn't bother to glance over to check if the others were still out of the room. He didn't think they had come back in, but he also didn't care. 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you." 

There was a strange choked sound down the line. 

"You hear me? You still there?" 

A sigh. "I hear you." 

Skinner frowned. "I mean it." 

"I know." 

"Good." 

"I... Me too, Walt." 

Smiling, Skinner nodded. "Yeah, I know, you skinny-assed sack of shit." 

The phone cut out on the wonderful sound of Doggett's laughter. 

Skinner replaced the receiver, thinking he could sleep that night, just on the memory of that sound. 

He was coming out. 

Grinning, Skinner stood up. There were things he needed to do. Not least of which was to get the place cleaned up and catch a flight out to Oswald State Penitentiary ready to be there for his lover. 

Fuck Kersh. Fuck the Bureau. John could phone in his report or have an Agent come to his father's bedside and take his statement. 

* 

Doggett lay with his hands behind his head. 

Funny, but now he knew he was going to be saying goodbye to this place in the morning, he felt more settled than he had all week. He might even get a good night's sleep. 

He smiled and wriggled down under the blanket. 

God, he was looking forward to seeing Skinner. A frown flickered across his face. He hadn't decided yet whether or not to tell the other man the details about Keller. Honesty dictated he should, but getting down on your knees was a hell of a lot more difficult to admit to than grabbing another guy's dick in the shower. 

He sighed. Skinner may have forgiven him the incident with Mulder, but he wasn't so sure about this. Would he understand the situation he'd been in, or would he just see it as a betrayal? 

Shit. He had some serious thinking to do. 

Rolling on to his side, he tucked his hands under his chin and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up he'd have a clearer idea of what to say. 

But regardless of what he decided, he was looking forward to seeing Skinner. Looking forward to holding him again. 

Even if he did have to follow it up by going to see his dad. 

Shit. That was going to be tough. Not just seeing the old man, but facing his mother for the first time since she found out about him. 

A loud thud outside the pod startled his eyes open. There was a light shining up from the main walk-through area. 

"What the hell?" He sat up, peering around the end of the bunk. "What's goin' on?" 

"Just a new arrival, I expect." 

Doggett peered upwards. "In the middle of the night?" 

"It happens sometimes, someone sick, or a long-distance arrival. 

Don't let it frighten you." 

Doggett frowned. "I wasn't frightened," he argued. "Jus' curious." 

He lay back down. 

He didn't want to admit even to himself, that the noise had made him jump. He shut his eyes against the faint light. 

"So how's today been for you, Jack?" Rebadow's voice floated down from the top bunk. 

Doggett cracked open an eye. "Interestin'," he said, not having any desire to elaborate. "Real interestin'." 

"I can imagine." 

Doggett frowned. "What d'you mean by that?" 

"You had a visitor, amongst other things. It is nice to get visitors." 

Both eyes wide open, Doggett's scowl deepened. "What d'you mean, 'amongst other things'?" 

The bunk creaked again as Rebadow turned over. "Nothing, really." 

"Doesn't sound like you think it's 'nothing', to me." 

A sigh drifted down. "It's just that I overheard two of the guards talking." 

"Oh yeah? 'Bout what?" 

"About you." 

Doggett pushed the blanket down. "And?" 

There was a shift as Rebadow moved in his bunk. "Just that one of them caught Keller and you in the showers, this morning..." Rebadow trailed off with a small movement that could have been a shrug. 

Color rushed into Doggett's face. Goddamit! Word got out fast. He rubbed his nose. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? 

"He was in there at the same time as me, yeah. So what?" 

Rebadow chuffed. "I don't imagine he was asking you to join the knitting circle." 

Doggett opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of word one that sounded like anything other than the lame excuse it was. 

He decided on a version of the truth that he could stomach hearing himself say. "He tried somethin' with me." 

Rebadow sighed. "I expect he did." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Doggett bristled. 

"No offense. He tries to have his way with a lot of men. I think he's a bit compulsive about it." 

Doggett grunted. "Maybe." 

"Did he..." 

"No, he didn't." 

"Ah." 

That was about as far as he wanted to discuss the matter with the other man. Anything else that he might admit to would be between him and Skinner. 

The silence stretched between them. Doggett waited. Surely that wasn't it? Rebadow always had more than enough to say about anything and everything. 

As the minutes grated by, he wondered if Rebadow had dropped off to sleep. He sometimes did that mid-conversation. It was fuckin' annoying, as it invariably left him wide awake and frustrated. 

But not this time. 

Tonight, he was going to sleep the entire night through. Screw Rebadow and his late-night chats. 

He snuggled down and closed his eyes again. 

He was going to need all his wits about him to face his mother. She was not going to be pleased to see him, he knew that much. 

"I don't expect it will be as bad as you imagine." 

Opening his eyes, Doggett wondered if he'd fallen asleep during a conversation, because he couldn't seem to get a handle on that comment. 

"What d'you say?" 

"It usually never is." 

Doggett screwed up his face. Jesus! One of them had a wire loose, and he was sure as shit it wasn't him. 

"What the fuck are you talkin' about, man?" 

"I told you how she feels about you. Just let her rage and storm a while, then she'll be fine." 

Moving to prop himself up on one elbow, Doggett peered at the edge of the top bunk. 

"Are you feelin' all right, man? Cause you sure ain't makin' any sense." 

The bed wobbled, then Rebadow's owlish face appeared over the edge. "I'm making perfect sense, thank you." 

"Sorry to break it to you, old timer, but you're not firin' on all cylinder's you know?" 

Rebadow sighed. "Your mother." 

"What?" 

"Your mother does love you." 

Doggett stared up in the dim light, aware that his mouth was hanging open. 

"She may not always show it, but she does." 

"What the fuck..." 

Rebadow shrugged. "Mostly because of Michael." 

Doggett felt his forehead furrow up. "Rebadow..." He shook his head to clear it. "What the fuck has my mother got to do with anything... 

And who the fuck is Michael?" 

The other man looked surprised by the question. "Why, your brother, of course." 

Now he knew the old guy was nuts. Either he'd got him confused with someone else, or he had been licking the lead paint off the window-ledges for one too many years. 

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Just got a baby sister. Sorry, man. You must be gettin' confused." 

Lying back down, he pulled the pillow tight around his neck, bunching it up by his ears. 

He was going to get to sleep if he had to tie Rebadow up in his bed and smother him with his pillow. 

"She didn't want to..." 

"Shut up and go to sleep, man." 

"You look like..." 

"Rebadow. Shut up." 

"But..." 

**"REBADOW!!"**

There was a small grunt of disapproval, then silence descended. 

Doggett sighed. Peace at last. 

* * *

Chapter 26. 

Skinner put the phone down and smiled over to Scully. "All sorted. 

Flights booked, rental waiting and Sal is going to e-mail me directions to the county hospital." 

"That's great." She held out his carry-on. "Now are you sure you've packed enough spare clothes for John? 

Skinner nodded. "He'll have his bag when he gets out. I know he put stuff in there. I've put a few things together just in case." He looked down at the bag on the sofa. "I guess we could always buy anything I've forgotten..." 

"I'm sure what you've packed is fine." 

He looked up at her. She had an amused expression on her face. He shrugged. 

"I just don't want to have to worry about anything." 

"Well, I'm just glad I've lived long enough to see the Assistant Director of the FBI flapping like a wet hen over what to pack for a weekend away." 

He feigned outrage. "I do not 'flap'." 

"Yeah, right." 

"Okay, okay..." He held his fingers apart. "Maybe just a little." 

She smiled. "Positively minuscule." 

"I'll deny it if you ever speak of it." 

"No doubt." 

He sighed and picked up the other bag. Time to go. 

"Good luck. And give my best wishes to John, will you? Both of our best." 

Skinner nodded. "I will." 

"Tell him I'll be praying for his father." 

"He'll appreciate that." 

Scully nodded. 

* 

Okay, so this was the plan, Doggett thought as he gathered up his towel for what was thankfully the last time. 

A quick shower. Quick bite to eat then up the stairs to see Warden Glynn and then goodbye Em City. 

If he was still in this great mood, he might stop by and say goodbye to Rebadow, the crazy bastard. He might be as batty as a church tower, but he was sort of okay. Least he hadn't tried to fuck him or kill him. That had to be worth something. 

He threw his towel on a peg and walked through into the steamy wash area. He was intentionally early today. No way he wanted to get caught alone with Chris Keller on his last morning. He still didn't trust himself not to land one on the lying shitbag. 

There was one shower head free. He grabbed it and stood under the spray. 

Just an hour, maybe two before he checked out of the Hotel Nut-House and saw Walt. The thought made him smile. He had already decided not to bother shaving. Just to see what Walt thought of his new 'prison' look. 

"Hey, newbie... Gimme your soap." Doggett didn't react to the shout, he knew he wasn't the new kid on the block any more. Two deliveries and a transferal had seen to that. 

"Why should I?" 

"Cause I'm gonna fuck you up if you don't, is why." 

Same old, thought Doggett. Same old. He didn't even bother to look over to where the negotiations were being carried out. 

He rubbed soap into his hair. Let some other poor shit get the treatment. He'd had his turn and earned the peace and quiet. New guy had better learn fast, was all he could think. 

Loud barks of laughter told Doggett the fresh meat had either been humiliated and/or given up his soap. 

That was the way it went. At least no-one was screaming and bleeding. 

He turned around and leaned on the wall, enjoying the feel of the hot water down his back. 

The sudden touch of fingers on his spine made him jump slightly. They wandered up then down. 

"Take your fuckin' hands off me," he growled, not looking round. 

If this was Keller starting his games again, then his might just forget his good intentions of a quick getaway and stay long enough to express how he felt about being lied to. 

The fingers continued strumming his spine. 

Doggett felt a slight tickle of memory. He frowned. 

"I said, get off," he repeated. Something fluttered at the back of his mind. Something vaguely familiar. He frowned, trying to pin the fluttering thought down. 

The fingers slipped lower over his slick skin. Down towards the crack of his ass. 

"You got about two seconds to take your hand off me, pal." 

The fingers disappeared. He waited a few seconds, but when they didn't return, he straightened up and turned around. 

No-one was near him. No-one was paying any attention to him. 

He shrugged. Probably just some guy trying it on. Never mind. 

He quickly washed himself. The touch had inexplicably bothered him. 

He wasn't sure why, but figured there was no sense in hanging around. 

Leaving the shower area, he sat down on a bench where he'd hung his clothes. He wouldn't be sorry to see the back of these, he thought, pulling on his regulation shorts and jeans. Be even better, getting out of them later with Walt. He grinned as he pulled his pants over his butt and sat back down to dig his socks out of his shoes Someone moved to stand in front of him. 

"Hey.. Back off, man." He pulled a sock free. "You're in my space." 

Jeez! He really wasn't going to miss the lack of privacy. Or even lack of personal space. 

From his right, a hand came up and gently cupped his chin, guiding it upwards. 

"Hey! What the fuck..." 

His head was raised up until he found himself looking into the eyes of the man in front of him. 

An ice-pick of fear hit Doggett in the guts. 

No. No. No. It couldn't be... 

The man smiled. "Hello there, Johnny Handsome." 

* * *

Chapter 27 

Skinner took the documents the woman offered and smiled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that since last night's phone call. 

"Thank you, Mr. Skinner. Have a safe journey." 

"Thank you." He stuffed the pouch in his jacket pocket and started walking towards the car park, a spring in his step. He was eternally grateful Doggett was getting out today. This business with his father made Skinner very uncomfortable. If it had been up to him, he'd have called the Governor and gotten John out of the prison five minutes after Sal's first call. None of this slinking around, sending Mulder to break the news. 

No. He'd have been there, telling him to his face. Jeez. What a mess. 

Came to a sorry state of affairs when a case took precedence over family. Or what was left of Doggett's family. 

He sighed and adjusted the bag on his shoulder, picking up his pace a little. He was going to be ridiculously early to pick Doggett up, but he couldn't contain himself. 

Jesus, he thought as he climbed into the BMW, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. 

Was this what love did to you? Turned a normally staid, unflappable man into a grinning idiot? 

He switched the ignition on and caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror. 

Obviously. 

* 

"No..." Doggett whispered. "No." 

"Oh, but yes..." Giles Banner stroked his elegant hand over the underside of Doggett's shock-slackened chin. "My dear Johnny. Fate has bought us together again." Banner smiled. 

"You're absolutely, every bit as handsome as I remember." 

Doggett's mind had run away from the changing room and was standing in a wet alleyway outside a gay nightclub. Standing looking at the face before him as it had been laid out on a stretcher, a bullet wound in his body, the flashing light of the EMT truck bleeding red over them both. 

He sat with his mouth hanging open, the smell of old piss and wet sidewalk in his nostrils, trying to reconcile the man that stood before him to the one that had been flitted in and out of his nightmares for weeks after he had been arrested. 

Giles Banner. Serial killer. 

Shit. 

His brain shriveled up. 

The hand under his chin slid up his face to run through his wet hair. "...And your naked body is every bit as delicious as I imagined. I'm so glad I've finally been able to see it." 

Doggett took a couple of breaths to steady his voice and frowned up into the smiling face. 

"You... You're supposed to be..." 

Banner shook his head. "Hush, now Johnny. Don't you worry yourself. 

What matters is that I'm here now..." He bent lower, until his nose was level with Doggett's. 

"And so are you." He smiled and looked vaguely puzzled. "Just why is that, Mr. Policeman?" 

Doggett's mind reeled. 

Banner was supposed to be in Maximum Security in San Quentin. Was supposed to be there for the rest of his life and beyond. What the hell was he doing in Oz? 

He couldn't think straight. This was so fucking outrageous; he couldn't get his breath. Banner was probably the last person he had expected to see. 

The touch of that elegant hand was making his skin crawl. 

"I..." He swallowed. "I'm..." 

Shit. What could he say? 

"Let me guess..." he whispered. "You're undercover." Banner leaned in a little more and let his nose gently bump Doggett's. "That's not going to make you to very popular, is it?" 

Doggett dumbly shook his head. 

"Well, now. What to do... what to do..." Banner straightened up and tilted Doggett's face up to him again. "Shall I tell these lovely gentlemen your little secret, or shall it stay between the two of us?" 

Doggett mentally kicked himself for sitting there like a fool. He had to get a grip! If Banner opened his mouth, he was dead meat. 

He had to make sure the creep didn't blow his cover. He needed to play along until he got a chance to make a break for it. 

Banner wagged Doggett's chin from side to side. "Well, Johnny Handsome? What's it to be?" 

Clearing his throat, Doggett pulled his chin away. "Please. 

Banner... " He paused and corrected himself. "Giles." 

Banner's face brightened as he clapped his hands softly. 

"You remembered!" 

"Yeah." 

"How wonderful! Do continue." 

"Giles..." He whispered. "You know I won't last five minutes if you say anything." 

"Less, I would imagine." 

"Uh-huh." Doggett glanced at the assortment around him. "So what d'you say we keep this between us?" 

"And my incentive would be?" 

Doggett frowned. 

"Don't frown, my precious," Banner said, sounding like something that had escaped from Lord of the Rings. He smiled, running his fingers over Doggett's forehead. "Makes you look so unhappy." 

Doggett made a conscious effort not to flinch and frown even harder. 

"What are you willing to give me?" 

"What d'you want?" he asked, terribly afraid he could guess the answer. 

Banner smiled. "Now there's a delicious thought." He removed his hand and placed it under his own chin, pretending to think deeply. "Let me think..." 

Doggett stood up. He needed to make a move, try and get within running distance of the warder's guard station. 

Banner narrowed his eyes and looked him up and down. 

"What do I want from a man who teased and tormented me? A man who was instrumental in my removal from society?" 

There wasn't anything Doggett cared to reply to that. He just stood, watching things flicker behind Banner's eyes. He'd bet none of them would be any fun for him. He steeled against clutching at himself. 

"Tell me, Johnny. How is that big man you were so fond of? Is he still around?" 

Thinking on his feet, Doggett shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him for a while." 

Banner's face lit up. "You're available, then?" 

Doggett shrugged. "I haven't been seeing anyone else, if that's what you mean." 

"So. Tell me..." Banner touched a finger to Doggett's nipple. "Have you ever thought about us? Together, I mean." 

Doggett pushed away the memory of weeks of nightmares with him lying on the sidewalk, with this man biting and tearing at his soft parts. 

Pushed them away and refused to allow them to show on his face. 

He raised one shoulder. "Sorta. I guess." Being economical with the truth had become second nature just recently. "You kinda made an impression on me." 

"I'm touched." Spreading his palm over the naked chest in front of him, Banner smiled. "I knew you were attracted to me, despite everything. And I've thought of you, constantly, too." 

He leaned in and brushed a slight kiss to Doggett's cheek. "We are connected, you and I. I knew you felt it too. We're meant to be together, you know that." 

Hoping Banner would read the shudder that ran through him as something other than the disgust it was, Doggett licked his dry lips. 

"So what next?" he asked. 

Banner raised his eyebrows, smiling. "I suppose a blow-job is out of the question, Mr. Policeman?" 

Doggett winced. "Jesus!" He hissed. He glanced around to see if anyone had heard. 

Banner tilted his head. "I think it would make good starting-place for negotiations." 

"Fuckin' hell..." Rubbing his warm neck, Doggett weighed up the possibility of getting Banner someplace away from the other inmates against that of actually having to carry out any personal contact. It was a close call. 

He sighed. 

"Okay. We need to talk. Need to go somewhere more... Private?" 

Banner grinned. "That sounds like a splendid suggestion, Johnny. 

It's been a long time coming, this joining, but fate always wins through." 

He reached out and stilled Doggett's hand as he reached for his tee shirt. 

"No. Leave it. I want to look at you for a little longer." He smiled and ran one long finger across Doggett's chest. "I've waited a long time to see your body, Johnny." 

Although sorely tempted to step back out of reach and wipe his chest, Doggett allowed the touch. 

It would be a small price to pay to get out of here in one piece. 

Hopefully the only price he'd have to pay. 

"I know someplace we can go," he said. "We can talk there." 

Banner stared at him. "And you're not afraid to be alone with me?" 

Shrugging, Doggett told the truth. "I'd feel safer just you an' me. 

Rather that, than a hundred other guys who wanna eat me alive." He felt his belly clench at his tactless words. "Besides, I don't want an audience, the first time..." He pulled a face. 

Banner threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Johnny! You needn't fear..." Leaning forward again, he put his cheek close to Doggett's . 

"I have no intention of sharing you." A soft growl in his ear made Doggett flinch. "Ever." 

He looked at the expression on the face in front of him and wondered if he was going to be able to run fast enough to get away from this man when the time came. 

Mind racing, he led the way through the change-room, out into the main room. The post-breakfast crowd was gathering around the tv, settling down over the chess-boards and generally milling about. 

Doggett felt as if every man was watching him. Felt as if they all knew who he was. Like he had the words 'Police Officer' painted on his forehead. A light sheen of perspiration broke out on his body, despite the lack of shirt. 

"What's this, Jackie? Got yourself a new bitch?" Keller strolled past, reaching out to flick the back of Doggett's head. 

Snatching his head away, Doggett made a noise in the back of his throat and made a move to go for the other man, Banner temporarily forgotten. 

"You lyin' sack of shit..." 

Keller laughed. "You really fell for that one, didn't you, babe?" He snapped his fingers. "Just like that!" 

"Bastard!" Doggett was two steps towards Keller before he felt the press of a hand to his shoulder. 

He turned to look. Banner slid around to stand at his side. 

"Now then, Johnny...Let's not be distracted. You and I have some things to 'discuss', don't we?" 

A long-fingered hand reached across to cup his balls. 

"Fuck!" Doggett jumped forward, snatching himself away. "Don't fuckin' t..." He bit back the rest of his words. 

Keller pointed. "Hey! I'm hurt, man! You're over me already." Moving in, he ran his eyes over Doggett's naked chest. "Maybe Mister Newbie here would like me to show him how..." 

"Just... Just go fuck yourself, Keller." Doggett clenched his teeth. 

He could feel himself starting to tremble with the effort of not smashing his fist into the grinning face. 

"Hey... that's not nice." Keller leaned in. "I gotta say, I liked you a whole lot better on your knees with your mouth full." 

A shudder ran through Doggett's body. He jerked forward, only held back by Banner's grip on his arm. 

Stepping in front of him, Banner stood nose-to-nose with Keller. "And you would be?" 

"I'm the man Jackie here gets to his knees for. Didn't he tell you?" 

Keller grinned. "Sucked me real good." 

Banner visibly flinched. "What?" 

"Didn't he tell you?" Keller grabbed his own crotch. "Jackie here dropped like a stone to gimme head. Couldn't wait to taste me..." 

Doggett watched as Banner turned around, stiff-backed. The look on the other man's face wasn't good. 

"Johnny? Is this true?" 

Doggett shot Keller an evil glare. "He's lyin'. He's a fuckin' no-good shithead. Don't believe word one from him." 

"Oh, yeah... You wish!" Keller stepped closer to Banner. "If I'm such a liar, how come I know he has an itty-bitty scar just above his ass crack, huh?" He held his fingers an inch apart. "This big. Like half a dime." 

Doggett heard Banner make a small, distressed noise. 

"You got an eyeful in the shower, you piece of shit!" He could feel the edges of panic starting to scratch at him. "Anyone could know somethin' like that!" 

Keller's eyes narrowed. "Just like Beecher knows you're left-handed, just from how you held your head when he kissed you?" 

The noise the other men were making in the room failed to drown out the sound Banner made as Keller's comment was thrown down between them. 

Doggett could practically hear his chances of escaping cough and die. 

He opened his mouth to say something to defend himself, but couldn't think of a thing. 

Banner turned to meet his eyes. 

"He's lyin'..." Doggett knew he sounded desperate. He didn't believe himself; no way Banner was going to. "I didn't..." 

"Same way as you didn't make a real big impression on Officer Howell, Jack? She's got a serious case of wet-crotch for you, babe." 

The look of distress on Banner's face ought to have pleased Doggett. 

As it was, he knew it could possibly signal the end of the line for him. 

"A _woman_ , Johnny?" The way he said the word made it sound like Doggett was a child-molester. 

"What's with this Johnny-shit?" Keller frowned. "His name's Jack. 

Isn't it?" 

"No..." Banner reddened and began to expand, as if he was building up to an explosion from the inside. "It isn't." 

* * *

Chapter 28 

Skinner sat in the rental, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel. Not long now. Doggett ought to be in with Glynn by now, giving his report, getting his clothes back and his keys to the door. 

Much as he liked to think of himself as a big, tough, macho kind of man, he happily admitted to himself that he'd missed Doggett like crazy. Missed having someone else about the place, missed fighting for shaving-space at the sink, even missed picking up after another person. Had it been like this when he was married? 

He didn't think so. He had taken Sharon for granted, that much he knew. But whether or not his failed marriage was the yard-stick with which he measured his relationship with Doggett, the unshakable truth was that this felt different. Not just because it was with another man, God knew that was part of it. But maybe that was just it. It was another man, and because it was, things were different. 

He sighed. It was too hard to keep trying to pick it over. He should just accept things as they were and be grateful he had Doggett in his life. 

Glancing at his watch for the thousandth time, he chewed on his lip. 

Nearly midday. Any second now. He looked up at the huge doors, willing them to open up and expel a happy-looking Doggett into the fresh air. 

The doors refused to play along with his little fantasy. 

* 

"Oh, yeah?" Keller looked far too interested for Doggett's liking. 

"Jack, John. It's all the same thing." He turned to Banner. "Hey, man... you comin' or not?" 

Banner stared at him. "No. I'm not..." He stepped back, his face hardening. He took a breath and spoke loudly. Far too loudly. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you..." 

The world screamed down to a pinhole in the front of Doggett's mind. 

The room seemed to hush, listening to Banner's next words. 

"Special AGENT Doggett." 

The three of them froze, a tableau of shocked faces, all for their own individual reasons. 

In his head, Doggett could hear seconds ticking away. It sounded like the marking out of the last few moments of his life. He wondered why he wasn't running. 

"He's a Fed?" Keller stared incredulously at Banner. 

The other man nodded, his face crimson, his mouth an ugly line, twisted in spasm. Tears glistened unshed in his eyes. 

"Fuck..." Keller turned to look at Doggett. "You FBI cock-sucker..." 

That broke the spell. 

With a snarl, Doggett threw himself at the other man, his fist already half way out to find its mark before their bodies connected. 

He smashed into the shocked face, oblivious to the pain of abused knuckles, not caring that his own skin split as he felt something give way in Keller's nose. 

The snarl morphed into a hoarse cry that was the bastard child of fury and terror as he punched Keller to the ground. He didn't stop to give himself chance to think as Keller hit the concrete, he barreled past Banner, shoving the killer out of his way. 

"FBI!" The furious scream bounced off the concrete walls, trailing after him as he dodged between the tables and chairs. "He's FBI!" 

His breath came in harsh gasps, more through panic than exertion. 

Hard edges of furniture reached out to smack into his legs and hips as he danced his way between them, as graceful as a tank. 

Men turned to stare, shocked at the sudden shout, the unexpected crash of furniture. Did he really think he could make the stairs before any of them came to their senses and grabbed him? The question churned in Doggett's mind, taunting. 

He threw a chair out of his way, unheeding of the protest as it hit someone. 

"Hey!" 

Hands snagged at his body, their owners having woken from the hypnotic chatter of the tv. Without his shirt, they fell from him, unable to grip on his sweat-shined skin. He tore away, this way and that, his body recalling half-forgotten football moves, his hips twisting him out of reach. 

His chest heaved, his throat ached and still the stairs seemed an impossible distance away. 

He wasn't going to make it. 

* 

The sound of the phone brought Skinner out his daydream with a start. 

He had been staring at the big doors for so long he's almost gone into a trance. 

"Skinner." 

"Is he out, yet?" Scully asked. 

"No." Skinner sighed. "It's way past the time he said. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just go up and knock on the door." 

Scully laughed. "Best not. You-Know-Who might get to hear about it." 

"I suppose." He scowled at the doors, willing them to open by glare alone. "But it's very frustrating." 

"I'll bet." There was a noise off to the side and Scully paused. "Mulder says to tell you John is probably just being fashionably late." 

Skinner smiled. "You think so?" 

He sat and listened to the two of them arguing as to whether John was indeed the type to keep him waiting on purpose, the smile staying put despite his frustration. 

There was a moment of silence, and then a yelp from someone. 

"Scully?" 

"Sorry. What did you say?" 

"What was that?" 

"Nothing. I was just making my point." 

The phone rattled. "Making it with something sharp, I might add," 

Mulder complained down the line. Skinner could just picture the face that matched the whine in the voice. 

"She's half your size, Mulder." 

Mulder just grumbled. 

"Will you call me when he gets out?" Scully asked, reclaiming the phone. 

"I will." 

"Promise?" 

Skinner smiled. "Are you still holding a sharp object?" 

"I am indeed." 

"Then I promise." 

Scully's laugh tinkled down the phone as he hung up. 

* 

Two men, large and tattooed stood at the foot of the stairs. Doggett skidded to a halt, arms pin-wheeling. 

Shit. He looked at them. They stared back, unmoving. 

Snatching a glance behind him, Doggett felt another squirt of adrenaline at the sight of a thin line of approaching inmates moving between the tables in a slow and steady way, knowing there was nowhere for him to escape. 

"Shit..." 

He swiped the sweat from his forehead and looked back at the two men, wondering if there was any way he could possibly take them down. 

Uh-uh. They stood with their arms folded across barrel-shaped chests. No way could he take them, not one at a time and not even if he'd been 25 and in his prime. 

"You really FBI?" One of them asked. 

Doggett didn't answer. He glanced behind at the advancing pack. 

"I asked if you was a goddamned Fed." 

Head darting left and right, Doggett weighed up his options. The stairs were out. Retreat was out. 

He was pretty much fucked. The scratching panic became sharper, snagging at his guts. 

A sudden flash of movement caught his eye. Over to one side, Beecher stood in front of the store-closet door. As Doggett's eyes met his, the other man jerked his chin in invitation, his hand holding the door open. Not stopping to second-guess or wonder about rhyme or reason, he leapt to the left, vaulting over a fallen chair and avoiding an angry outstretched paw by a shade, flung himself headlong through the open door. 

Re-bounding off the rear of the wall, Doggett grunted and turned as quickly as he could. He'd had a fleeting thought that maybe Beecher was luring him in here to stab him with a shank, or just to trap him. 

"Quickly... Help me." Beecher sais as he began to push a metal filing cabinet towards the doorway. Through the closed door, Doggett other could hear the howls of outrage at the realization they couldn't get to him. 

Galvanized by the shouts, Doggett threw himself at the other side of the cabinet and heaved it forward. It clanged across the door the same instant the mob reached it. There was a howl of pure frustration as fists pounded on the door. 

"Jesus..." Doggett leaned against the cabinet, planting his feet firmly. The heavy stack of drawers rattled under the assault on the door. 

Next to him, Beecher took up a similar stance. "Made yourself some real nice friends, Costello." 

Doggett looked at him. The other man was grinning wildly. 

"It's Doggett, actually. And I don't think they want my friendship." 

Beecher inclined his head. "I think you're right; Doggett." They both shuddered as a fresh wave of pushing threatened to dislodge them. "But maybe your balls on a plate will do." 

Doggett braced himself harder and glanced over. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because, my man, if I don't there's not gonna be enough of you to mop up and put in a jiffy bag." 

They both grunted as the cabinet bounced against their backs. "Yeah. 

You don't say..." Doggett looked over at the other man. "But that's not what I mean, Beecher. You know that." 

"Yes. I do." Beecher seemed to give this question serious consideration. 

"Well?" 

"You were trying to nail Keller?" 

Doggett looked at him. There was definitely something going on between those two. He just couldn't figure out what it was. 

"Yeah, I was." 

"I guessed so." 

There was another almighty thump against the door. 

"Jesus... I hope the doors in this place are made of strong stuff." 

Beecher gave a little laugh. "It'll hold out." He grunted. "Whether we do, is another matter." 

Outside a whistle blew. 

"Thank God..." Doggett cast his eyes heavenward in relief. 

"Give it a minute. They'll call lock-down. You'll be safe, then." 

"And you?" 

Beecher shrugged. "I'll be fine." 

"You reckon they're gonna forget this?" Doggett tilted his head at the racket outside the door. 

"I'll be fine," Beecher repeated. 

"How can you be so sure?" 

Turning and giving him a wide smile, Beecher shrugged. "Keller." 

Doggett frowned. "Huh?" 

"He'll keep me safe." 

Doggett shook his head. "Keller?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"What? The guy you just watched me beat down? The guy you can't even stand to talk about?" He shook his head some more. "You're nuts." 

Beecher laughed as the bunk shuddered. "Quite possibly." 

Doggett stared at the grinning face, lost for words. This man had just saved his life, there was no doubt about that. Saved him just as Rudy had saved him back in Beruit by putting himself between him and that car bomb. History repeating itself, or just his over-active imagination? 

Doggett shook his head. Not so long ago, no-one would have accused John Doggett of having an imagination at all, let alone an over-active one. 

He sighed and faced Beecher. 

"Well, thanks anyway, man." He stuck his hand out. "Preciate it." 

"No problem." Beecher took his hand and squeezed it. "You take care, now." Beecher suddenly pulled him forward into a hug, wrapping his spare hand around his shoulders. 

Doggett hugged back, perfectly aware that this would be the last chance he would ever get to touch this man. He squeezed hard, his thoughts a jumbled mess of past history, relief and thanks. 

"Hey, Jack?" Beecher whispered into his ear. 

"What?" 

"Think we've got time for a quick blow job?" 

* * *

Chapter 29 

In the end, Skinner had lost patience and been halfway across the parking lot as the small walk-through in the doors had opened. He stared as Doggett stepped squinting into the sunshine. His heart lurching. He took the last few yards between them in slow motion, just soaking up the sight of the other man. 

Doggett nodded a greeting. "Hey." 

"Hey yourself." The smile Skinner had been sporting faded as he approached the other man. "Jesus Christ, John..." 

Unable to stop himself, he stepped closer and put up a hand to touch Doggett's bruised face. 

Doggett flinched away. "Can we just get outta here? " 

Taking care that the sting of rejection didn't show on his face, Skinner just nodded. "Sure." 

He frowned as they walked back to the car, side by side, not speaking. His mind raced. What the hell was going on? While he understood there was never going to be some big emotional scene between them outside the doors of Oz, he had hoped for a smile, at least. 

And what had happened to his face? 

They reached the car. Skinner looked at the keys in his hand. "You want to drive? I know how you are with cars." 

Doggett just shook his head. "No," was all he said, sliding his bag off his shoulder. 

There wasn't another word exchanged as they got in, pulled away and took off down the interstate. Skinner drove steadily, the silence grating on his frayed nerves. 

"So. Talk to me, John. What happened?" He glanced across to his passenger. 

Doggett was sitting slumped in the chair, staring through the windshield, no expression on his face. He didn't reply. Skinner looked as long as he could without running off the road. 

He smiled a little despite the bruises. 

"I guess you forgot to pack a razor, huh?" 

There were several clenches of jaw before Doggett spoke. "Some guy took it." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

They rode on, sharing some more of that silence. Seemed there was plenty to go around. 

Fifty minutes later, Skinner couldn't stand it any longer. He indicated right and started to pull off the road towards a motel and truck-stop. 

The bump of the off-ramp stirred Doggett. He sat up straighter. "What're you doin'?" 

"Pulling off." 

"I can see that. Why?" 

"Because I need to use the bathroom, you need some coffee and we both need to talk." 

Nothing more was said as he negotiated the car park and brought the car to a halt. Turning the key, Skinner looked over at the other man. 

He rested one hand on the wheel. 

"So. Are you going to talk to me?" 

"Not here." Doggett made a move towards the door handle, and Skinner's hand darted out to stop him. 

"Then where? And when?" He let his hand drop at the stare Doggett gave it. "John... What the hell's wrong with you?" 

Doggett let the question lie for a moment, then sighed. "I'm tired, is all." 

"Bullshit!" Skinner brought his hand down on the wheel, hard. "You've barely said two words since you got out of that place, and let me tell you, mister... I don't appreciate it one bit!" 

Furious one second, Skinner was instantly contrite at the look that washed over Doggett's face at his words. He laid his hand back on the arm, gently this time. 

"Look, John. I know it must have been tough for you, but I just want to help. Talk to me... Please." He leaned closer. "Fuck, if you don't want to talk, the least you could do is look me in the eye." 

Slowly obedient, Doggett brought his eyes up to meet Skinner's. The expression in them caught the breath in Skinner's throat. 

"Oh, John..." He took a chance and raised his hand to Doggett's cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." 

Leaning into the touch, Doggett sighed again and closed his eyes. "Yeah, you did. And I deserved it." He rubbed his cheek across Skinner's palm, relishing the scratch. "I should be apologizing to you." 

"Don't. I just need you to talk to me." 

"I can't." 

Skinner felt a shudder run through Doggett's body. "Hey..." 

"Oh, shit..." 

Doggett's voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes stayed closed. 

Skinner made a decision. There was no way this man was in any shape to travel across the country today, family crisis or no. 

"Hey..." He waited until the blue eyes opened before he spoke again. "I'm gonna call the airline. Change the flight to tomorrow." 

The was a flicker of hope in the blue eyes. "Yeah?" 

"It's not a problem. In fact I think it'd be a good idea." He smiled. "You don't look so great." 

Doggett grinned wanly back. "What? You don't like the new look?" 

Turning the chin in his hand this way and that, Skinner pursed his lips. 

"I don't know. It's different, I'll give you that. Definitely non-regulation." 

Doggett chuffed out a feeble chuckle. "You got that right." 

"So. You want to grab a room here? Take a flight tomorrow?" 

Doggett swallowed. "Yeah. I think I need to talk." 

* 

With the sound of the motel shower pounding away in the background, Skinner dialed a memorized number. 

"Scully." 

"Hi, it's me." 

"Oh! Is he..." 

"Yeah. I've got him." 

"How is he?" 

Skinner glanced at the closed door. "He's not doing so good." 

"How so?" 

Skinner sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm not sure; uncommunicative, sullen. Like his nerves are on a trip-wire." 

"It's going to take some re-adjusting, you know. Time in prison for whatever reason is going to be tough." 

"I know. I guess I just expected... I don't know. Something else. " 

There was a silence, then Scully spoke carefully. "Is he pleased to see you?" 

Skinner grunted. "Not so you'd notice." 

"Ah." 

"Barely looked at me. Spoke even less." 

"No big hello kiss, then?" There was a light banter in her voice that made him smile despite himself. 

"No, Agent Scully. No kiss." 

"That must hurt." 

Skinner stared at a stained patch of carpet. Ouch. Home run for Scully. He ran his hand over his head. 

"Yeah." He guessed he had nothing to lose by admitting that. 

"Maybe he just needs a while to adjust. Where is he now?" 

"In the shower." Smiling, Skinner looked at his hand. "He grew a beard." 

"Mulder said. You like it?" 

"I'm not sure. Maybe." He smiled. "Yes. I think I do. Makes him look... Rakish, I guess." 

Scully laughed. "This I have to see." 

"I don't know. He might have gotten rid of it by now." 

"Awww..." 

A noise behind him made Skinner turn. 

"Gotten rid of what?" Doggett stood with a towel around his hips, wiping another over his wet hair. 

Skinner grinned at the sight, his crotch warming a little. 

"You're in luck. It's still there. Would you like to speak to him?" 

"I sure would. Put him on." 

Skinner held up the phone. "She wants to speak to you." 

Doggett frowned. "Who?" 

"Dana." 

Taking the receiver, Doggett moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hi." 

While they spoke, Skinner took the opportunity to study the body in front of him. There were several nasty bruises on his torso that looked as if the were only just passing their peak. The one on his side looked big enough to have been caused by a boot. 

Skinner winced as he peered closer. That must have hurt like a bitch. 

He wondered who was responsible. 

"You really wanna see it?" Doggett was saying. He smiled, rubbing his hand over his chin. "Yeah? I dunno. Makes me look old, I think." 

Scully said something that made him laugh, and Skinner was grateful to her. He looked less shell-shocked when he laughed. 

He stooped to his knees and gently brushed the backs of his fingers across the bruise. Doggett jumped and glanced down, but didn't move away. 

"No, he's not listening...Go on." 

Skinner glanced up and met Doggett's eyes. He wondered what the woman was saying. 

"Yeah?" Doggett watched as Skinner trailed his fingers up over the marked skin and down his arm. "Is that an order, Ma'am?" 

Skinner raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, I'll be sure to remember that." Doggett smiled wider. "Is that all?" 

Leaning in to place a feather-light kiss on the bruise, Skinner watched as a flush spread over Doggett's neck and face. He didn't think it was his touch that brought that on. 

"Agent Scully! I'm shocked!" Doggett laughed. 

Thoroughly curious, Skinner rose to his feet, wincing at the twin pop of his knees and stood to lean against the wall, watching as Doggett grinned and wriggled his way out of the conversation. 

"No... Okay... I'll be sure to tell him. No, I won't... Yes..." 

His face dropped a little as Scully talked. "Thank you," he whispered. "I appreciate that. I will. 'Bye." 

Sighing, Doggett replaced the phone. He sat and stared at it, the occasional drop of water running out of his hair onto the towel. 

"You okay?" Skinner didn't move. He just watched. Eventually, Doggett's head came up. 

"Yeah." He sighed. "I guess." 

"You don't look so sure." He pointed. "You look like hell. Except for the beard, which I do like, by the way." 

Doggett gave him a rueful look. "Thanks." He rubbed his chin. "You like it?" 

Skinner smiled. "Sure." 

"Won't be able to keep it when I get back to the Bureau." 

"No. But at least I'll have had the chance to see you with one." He moved to sit next to the other man. Doggett shuffled up to give him more room. 

"So. We okay?" 

Doggett sighed again. "I guess." 

"Not very reassuring." 

Doggett looked pained. "Sorry." He reached up and patted the side of Skinner's face. "It's not you." 

Holding up a finger, Skinner scowled. "Is this an 'It's not you, it's me', speech? Cause if it is, I can tell you now, I hate the way those always turn out." 

Doggett smiled and let his hand drop. "No... yes... Oh, fuck..." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know. My head is all fucked up, Walt." 

Taking both shoulders in his hands, Skinner pushed backwards until Doggett's body gave up resisting and flopped back. 

"Hey..." 

"Just shut up and lie there." Looking down at the prone man, Skinner sighed and ran his hands down the muscled arms. "You're a sight for sore eyes, John Doggett." 

"Tell me about it." Doggett winced, fingering a bruise. 

"Don't..." Skinner moved his hand away and bent to kiss the spot. "Let me." 

"Ahhh, Jeez, Walt..." 

"Shhhhh. Relax." 

Relishing the moment of surrender, Skinner held himself over the other man and slowly allowed his mouth to catalogue the collection of scrapes and bruises dotted all over the body on the bed. 

He kissed each one, trailing his lips across unmarked skin to every scrap of damage, muttering soft words of comfort on the bigger ones. 

Doggett lay silently complying. Skinner hadn't been sure the other man would allow it, the state he'd been in, but it seemed to be doing some good. The tight, anxious look about him was melting away into the motel bedspread. 

He smiled to himself at the sight of his lover stretched out with his arms flung out to the sides, looking both debauched and innocent at the same time. 

Taking the edge of the towel in his fingers, he slowly peeled it open, pausing only to kiss each bump and bruise as it was revealed. 

He sucked his breath in over his teeth at the sight of the purple and yellow hip bone. 

"Colorful, ain't it?" 

"Bastards..." Skinner murmured, being especially careful not to hurt as he smoothed his tongue over the mottled skin. Doggett wriggled. 

"Sorry..." He blew on the wet bit, knowing how ticklish the other man was. "Better?" 

Grunting, Doggett shut his eyes again. 

There was a slight tent in the material where the towel covered his groin, and when Skinner pulled the last of the towel away, it grew a little more. Reverently, he laid the edges of the towel on the bed and took a moment to admire the view. He had missed this. He had missed Doggett. Tattoo, scars and all his infuriating, funny little habits. He had missed the whole package so bad it hurt. 

He bent to kiss the tip of the warm dick in front of him. 

"I missed you," he admitted, figuring it never hurt anyone to hear those words. He ran his tongue up the length, inhaling motel soap and warm Doggett. 

"Oh, sssshit..." 

While the words were right, it the reaction wasn't quite the one he'd been hoping for as Doggett brought his hands up to cover his face and his erection faded. 

"John?" 

"Oh, fuck... Fuck..." 

Worried, Skinner sat up. "What the hell? What's wrong?" 

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Doggett's voice was muffled behind his hands. He sounded strangled and not a little distressed. 

"Oh, Walt... I'm..." 

"Hey..." Skinner took both wrists in his and pulled gently. "Hey. 

Talk to me. What's all this about?" 

As his hands fell away, Doggett's face creased up. "Fuck..." 

Openly concerned now, Skinner pulled the other man up and towards him. He levered them both into a tangle of arms and legs, wrapping himself around the naked man, leaning on the pillows. 

"I'm so sorry... I'm sorry..." Doggett mumbled into the crook of Skinner's neck, clinging on hard, despite how much it must have hurt. 

"Jesus, John... You're scaring me." Skinner held tighter. "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you." 

He rocked gently back and forth. "It's all over now. It's done with. 

You're safe." 

They lay there while the shadows pulled the evening into the room and the sharp edges of the furniture and the situation blended out into grey. Hours might have passed, he couldn't tell, with his arm under Doggett's body. 

The other man was lying still as he had for a while now, the shuddering having finally been chased away by the warm embrace. 

Skinner just lay and waited. He wasn't by nature a patient man, but he would wait without question for the man in his arms to be ready to move, to talk. Never mind that his arm had gone to sleep about an hour ago and he could do with going to the bathroom. All of that was unimportant. All that mattered was lying curled safe in his arms. 

* * *

Chapter 30 

"Walt?" Doggett's voice sounded a million miles away. The evening sunshine was just beginning to bleed out of the room. 

Skinner lifted his head. "What's that?" 

"I need to tell you some stuff." 

"Yeah?" Bending his head to kiss the side of the hot face, he nodded. Here it came. "Go on. I'm listening." 

"I've done...." Doggett paused, struggling for words. 

Skinner nodded. "Go on." 

"I've done... things." 

Mouth in a half smile, Skinner deepened his voice. "Questionable things?" 

Doggett's head lifted. "Huh?" 

"You know the line: 'I've done questionable things'..." 

Doggett cocked an eyebrow and peered over imaginary glasses. "Nothing the God of Biomechanics wouldn't let you into heaven for?" 

They smiled at each other, the moment of connection over a favorite science fiction film breaking the tension. 

"You left a bit out," Skinner told him. 

"Picky." 

"So. Go on... Tell me." Propping himself up on one arm, Skinner looked down and smiled gently. "It's okay, John. Whatever it is, it's okay." 

Doggett pulled a face. "No it isn't." 

"I'm sure it is." 

"No..." 

"Okay then. I'm sure it will be." He bent and kissed the down-turned mouth. "Is that nearer the mark?" 

"Maybe." Sighing, Doggett lifted a hand to run it down the side of Skinner's face. "I'm not sure where to start..." He frowned, leaning back. "And don't say: 'The Beginning'." 

"Works for me." 

Doggett smiled. "Yeah. I guess." He sighed, then lay for a while, struggling with what to say. A couple of times he opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. 

"Hey..." Skinner pulled away. "Take your time; I need to take care of business, first." 

He climbed out of the embrace and the bed. Turning at the bathroom door, he smiled. "I want a full report when I get back, okay?" 

Doggett inclined his head. "Yes, sir." He lay and listened to Skinner peeing, flushing and washing up and tried to sort out what to say. Anyway he cared to slice it, what he'd done sounded bad. 

Moments later Skinner came back into the room and in a flap of blanket, insinuated himself back in the same position. 

"Now, then; where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to tell me everything." He slid an arm around Doggett's shoulders. "Go on. I'm listening." 

Sighing, Doggett closed his eyes and attempted to pick out the least damaging phrase. One after another, he discarded opening gambits, until eventually, he spoke all in a rush. 

"I kissed another man, Walt. Beecher. His name was Beecher." 

"Yeah?" Skinner felt his throat tighten, but was careful not let any censure creep into his voice. 

"Actually, he kissed me, but I didn't stop him." 

"Okay. And?" There was more. He could tell by the tone of Doggett's voice. Or if he had been a more fanciful man, he'd have said and by the pricking of his thumbs. 

"There was another man." Doggett frowned. 

"What was his name?" 

"Keller." There was an edge to the word that Skinner didn't care for. 

"Was he the one that hurt you?" 

Doggett shook his head. "No. Well..." He shifted. "Not exactly." 

"So who gave you all these?" Skinner waved a hand up and down the body next to him. 

Doggett snorted. "Take your pick. Seems like just about everyone." 

Running a finger over his hip-bone, Doggett stared, unseeing. His thoughts were a jumble of images, from the Hole, to the dining room, the storage closet and back. 

Skinner nudged him gently. "Go on." 

"Oh, shit, Walt..." 

Skinner had a bad feeling about this one. "This man, Keller. If he didn't give you any of these, then what did he do to you?" 

Doggett made a noise at the back of his throat. 

Something wicked was definately coming. Skinner took a breath. "Just say it." 

"He made me... He made..." Doggett swept his hand over his face, ignoring the bruises. "Shit! No, he didn't make me do anything. I did it all by myself." He made a noise of disgust. "I ain't proud of myself." 

"I don't imagine." 

"No. You couldn't imagine." 

Taking a deep breath, Doggett closed his eyes. "I got down on my knees for him. Like some dirty ten-buck hustler... I got down and sucked him, just so he'd tell me what I wanted to know." He groaned. "Oh, fuck! I know that doesn't make it any better - doing it for the job doesn't excuse it, but that's just about the only way I can think about it without wanting to shoot myself or go throw my guts up." 

Doggett sat bolt upright, his face red, his eyes flashing angry fire. 

His breathing came in angry spurts, his chest heaving. He looked just about ready to vomit on the bed. 

Skinner stared at him. Inside his guts churned and he was as angry as he'd ever been, wanting to either smash his fist into this man, Keller's face, or into the wall behind Doggett's head. 

As his jaw clamped down hard, a small tag of his cheek skin caught between them and burst in a flare of copper. The taste spread over his tongue, sour and bitter. It galvanised him, scrambling off the bed and onto his feet. 

He stood breathing hard, trying to stamp down on the feeling of raging jealousy rolling through him. 

He was aware of Doggett watching him, but he couldn't look at those blue eyes right now. He pulled in several breaths, running his hand over his face. "Jesus!" he whispered. The implication of what Doggett said sprang to life in his head, giving him a lurid comic-book replay of the act. 

A creak of bedsprings told him Doggett had moved off the bed. Skinner still couldn't bring himself to turn around, he knew one look at his face and Doggett would more than likely put his clothes on and walk out. 

He screwed up his eyes and shook his head, trying to chase the pictures away. Skinner licked his lips, eyes still shut. He knew what Doggett looked like on his knees sucking cock; he'd been on the receiving end often enough. Only now, all he could think of was how it looked from someone else's point of view and it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

"Walt?" A breath of movement behind him and a hint of touch to his arm. Skinner opened his eyes in time to see the color drain from Doggett's face as their eyes met. Then he watched as Doggett turned and dashed into the bathroom. 

"Fuck," Skinner whispered, as the door slammed shut. 

Silently, he turned and took the two steps back to the bed and slumped down, his head dropping into his hands. What a fucking mess. 

Groaning quietly, he scrubbed at his face. 

The words Doggett had blurted out ran through his mind on spiked shoes. How could he? How could Doggett do that to another man? 

Didn't he care how much it hurt? Skinner told himself he would never do that. 

He winced. Would he? Would he have done it to get the job done? To get out to see his father... 

Behind the closed door, he could hear the sound of Doggett's miserable retching. 

"Fuck," he said again and sat and waited, understanding seeping into him, bringing a good dose of guilt along with it. 

* 

At least fifteen minutes passed since he heard the last cough and spit. Then there came the sound of water running and a toothbrush hard at work. 

Then another five without any sound at all, that had Skinner starting to worry. He quickly ran through the contents of the bathroom in his mind, wondering, if there was anything sharp in there. He shook his head at himself, hating the fact that he would give that thought even fleeting consideration. He stood up and approached the bathroom, trying to think rationally. 

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, it opened and Doggett strode out, brushing past in a cloud of toothpaste-scented air. 

Skinner converted the hand-gesture into a brief touch on the arm as he walked past. 

"John?" 

Doggett stopped when he reached their bags and stood with his rigid shoulders. The tendons in his neck stood proud, disappearing into the lines of tense shoulders. The naked body practically vibrated with anxiety. Or anger. 

"What?" 

Several things ran through Skinner's mind. Apologies, accusations and arguments all vied for position on the tip of his tongue, all the time, the pricking of his thumbs telling him this could be a make or break moment in the relationship. What came out of his mouth might mean the difference between Doggett leaving, or them reaching an understanding. All he had to do was pick the right thing to say. 

He said the first thing that came into his head. 

"Did you enjoy it?" 

Doggett turned to look at him, his face contorted. "FUCK NO!" 

His fists balled up and Skinner braced himself for it. 

"It was fuckin' disgusting! I HATED it... I hated him! I've never felt so dirty, so fuckin' digusted. I hated every second..." His anger broke as quickly as it had arrived. "I hate myself," he added softly, unfurling his fist. 

Skinner reached up slowly and touched his face. "It's okay. It's over." 

"I can't stop thinkin' about..." 

"Yes, you can. I have. It gone. Forgotten." Skinner was surprised to realise that it was true. The instant he heard Doggett throwing up over his reaction, his anger and jealousy had evaporated. 

"But..." 

Skinner leaned in and took the hot face between his hands. Placing his mouth over John's, he kissed Doggett deeply, slowly and as thoroughly as he could. He poured as much of his feelings into the kiss as he could, the other man and himself know that he still loved him, that it really was okay. 

He pulled slowly out of the embrace, allowing himself to caress the edge of Doggett's mouth with his tongue. 

"That... is all that matters, John," he said, gently shaking the head between his hands. "Just that. You and me. Not anything else. No-one. 

You hear?" 

Doggett nodded. 

"I want you to know - I don't care what you had to do; I'm an asshole for not saying that earlier..." He scratched his fingers through the reddish beard. "All that shit stays in Oz, as far as I'm concerned. I just want to move on. If you do, too." He tilted Doggett's face towards him. "I need to know one thing..." 

Doggett looked at him with creased forehead, obviously dreading what Skinner wanted to know. 

"Okay," he said, slowly. "What?" 

"Do you love me?" 

Mouth dropping a little in surprise Doggett nodded. "Yeah. 'Course I do." 

"Then that's enough." He smiled, satisfied. "Okay. So d'you want to make love, or are you too tired?" 

Clearly stunned by the change of subjects, Doggett stood open-mouthed for a moment, then grinned. 

"Oh, I think I could manage something." He glanced down at his fresh erection. "Under the circumstances." 

"Glad to hear it." 

Pushing Doggett backwards, Skinner deposited him on the bed and leaned on his shoulders until he lay flat. Grinning, he ran through all the things he wanted to do, discarding the majority of them for being too physical for John's present condition. He filed the thoughts away for future reference. Right now, he just needed to reassure Doggett that he felt the same way as before Oz. 

Doggett watched as Skinner got to his knees on the floor. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine as his legs were parted. A part of him couldn't quite believe that Skinner was willing to ignore the things he'd done, happy to consign them to the bottom drawer of his mind. 

Shit... Never mind Skinner, he wasn't sure HE was willing to forget it all. He still couldn't believe what he'd done. 

He gasped as Skinner's mouth closed over him, pushing his dick all the way to the back of his throat. He gripped the bedcovers, his hips bucking. 

"Ssshit..." 

Skinner grinned up at him, his mouth full. Doggett laughed shakily at the sight. Jesus, he didn't deserve a man like this. After what he'd... 

No. He put his head back. He refused to allow himself to get bogged down with guilt. Wasn't going to let it come between them. If Skinner was man enough to forgive him, which is essentially what it boiled down to, then he was going to be man enough to forgive himself. 

Guilt was the weapon his mother used to beat him with. He wasn't going to wield that tool on himself. Not any more. 

Closing off his mind to everything but the sensations his body was enjoying, Doggett relaxed and allowed himself a small groan of pleasure. 

Skinner's mouth moved up and down, milking him. He just moved with the flow, writhing his hips, twisting the bedsheets in tight knots. 

"Oh, Jesus... Oh God..." 

There was the unmistakable tickle of orgasm deep in his groin, then he groaned in frustration as Skinner's mouth moved off him. 

He choked. "Wha...?" 

"What do you want, John?" Skinner looked up at him, a wet erection bobbing between them. 

"Your choice. You want me to finish you like this, or would you rather come inside me?" He grinned. "I'm happy either way." 

Pulling in deep breaths, Doggett considered the question. He was so close right now, just a suck or two would bring him off. He seriously doubted if he could even hold out while he skinned a rubber on, let alone trying to ease inside anyplace remotely snug. 

No; he knew what he wanted. 

"I want you inside me, Walt." He reached down and pulled the other man towards him. "I need it." 

Skinner smiled. "You sure?" 

"Uh-huh. Now; c'mon. Do it." 

Shaking his head, Skinner started to undo his belt. "Patience, Grasshopper. All good things come to those who wait." 

Doggett's fingers scrabbled at the zipper. "Fuck waitin'. I want you now. It's been too long." 

Laughing, Skinner peeled his pants and shorts down in one swift move. "Okay, okay." He stepped out of his clothes, fumbling in his carry-on for condom and lube, while Doggett took care of his shirt. 

"Careful! This shirt cost me forty bucks!" 

"I'll buy you a dozen more," Doggett gasped, finally ripping it open and latching onto Skinner's chest. He bit down. 

"Fuck!!" Skinner grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away. "Jesus, John! Take it easy..." 

Doggett grinned up. "Just hurry up, will ya? I'm way ahead, here." 

Grumbling, Skinner rolled the rubber and pushed Doggett down onto the bed. 

"Happy?" 

"Not yet." Drawing his legs up, Doggett pulled Skinner down for a kiss. "But I will be, in a minute." 

Shaking his head, Skinner smiled and began to spread lube between the firm cheeks. He bent and gave another quick kiss. 

"You ready for this?" he asked, easing one finger inside, working it round. 

"Oh, shit... Yeah." Doggett pushed himself down. "You better believe it." 

"Okaaay." 

Another finger and Doggett groaned, wriggled hard. "Oh, fuck... now, Walt, or the fat lady's gonna sing whether you're ready or not." 

"I'm ready..." Pushing himself against Doggett, Skinner watched his face carefully as he breached the muscle and sank inside, little by little. He would never get tired of watching this man when they did this. The way his eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open in a silent groan; it was beautiful. Never mind what society said about men and their looks, he was beautiful. 

He grinned down, pushing himself deeper. "That good, Johnny?" 

Doggett made a noise and grabbed at Skinner's shoulder, pulling him down more. 

Skinner thought he might come just from watching this man writhe under him. His cock throbbed, held tightly. He slowly pulled back, relishing the grip on his engorged flesh. He wasn't going to last much longer. He'd barely touched himself the past week or so. 

"Oh, God..." he breathed, resting his head on Doggett's. 

"Shit!" Doggett bucked and clenched his ass. "Oh, shit... Shit..." He pushed himself down, impaling himself. "Oh, shit, move, Skinner, move... I'm gonna come..." 

Without even laying a hand on his dick, Doggett began to whine, squirming underneath Skinner's body, the start of his orgasm unfurling in his guts. 

That was enough for Skinner. The feeling of Doggett's body thrashing helplessly as he lost control triggered his own climax. With a barely suppressed shout, he shoved one hand under the small of Doggett's back and pulled him up sharply. 

He thrust hard, over and over, lost all restraint as he emptied himself, knowing that John had already spilled out, his cock trapped between them. 

* * *

Chapter 31. 

They had lain for a good ten minutes, getting their breath back, too stunned to move. 

"Hey..." Skinner groaned in reply. His heart was still pounding. 

Doggett tapped a slick shoulder. "Hey, Fatass; move it." 

"Can't." 

"Move it or lose it, pal." 

"Gimme a minute." 

Doggett squeezed the shoulder apologetically. "Sorry to bust up the party, Walt, but you're hurtin' me." 

Skinner was instantly up on his elbows. "Shit, John, I'm sorry; I forgot." He glanced down at the multi-colored hip-bone. "Shit." 

"S'okay," Doggett assured him, pulling himself up. "I ain't broke." 

Skinner gave him a look. "No, but your grammar's terrible." 

"Hey, fuck you." 

Skinner grinned. "Maybe later." 

Doggett looked at the mess squidged all over his belly and shook his head. "You sound like Sal," he said. "She's always correctin' me." 

The thought of his sister sliced through the post-coital haze straight into his conscience. 

"Shit." He rubbed his eyes, sighing. "Wonder how she's doin'." 

Skinner looked up from cleaning himself off. "You could call." 

Doggett looked at him, considering it. "Maybe." 

"You could ask how your dad is." He handed Doggett a tissue. 

"Yeah. I could." He pulled a face, mopping at himself. "I really ought to be there." 

Skinner watched the way Doggett dabbed half-heartedly, the stress of his spell in Oz written all over his face. If he headed out to the airport and flew to the hospital now, he probably wouldn't sleep for the next couple of days. 

"You will be there," he said firmly. "Tomorrow." Removing the tissue he finished the clean-up and tossed the paper in the trash. "Right now you need to sleep. You won't do anyone any good killing yourself to get there 12 hours earlier." 

"But..." 

"No, John. You sleep now. I'll get you there in time for dinner tomorrow. I promise." 

A resigned smile crossed Doggett's face. He held his hands up. "Okay, boss. You win." 

"Good." Holding the covers back, Skinner raised an eyebrow. "You getting in?" 

"It's a bit early." 

"Get in. Then I'm going to get you the phone so you can call your sister; then you're going to curl up with me and go to sleep. Okay?" 

"You're so bossy." 

"Comes with the job." 

Doggett laughed, shuffling over to get into bed. You really have authority issues, you know that?" 

"Sue me." 

Walking over to the dresser, Skinner bent to pick up the cell phone. 

"Nice ass, Mr. Skinner." 

Skinner just held up a finger while he dialed. "Here," he said, handing it over and climbing into bed. 

Doggett took the phone and waited, staring at the nasty art print on the opposite wall. The light from the parking-lot lamp had sucked all the colors away, leaving it a study in piss-yellow. It actually improved the composition, he thought. 

Listening to the ringing, he wondered what he was going to say to Sal. 

"Hello?" 

"Sal?" 

He winced at her gasp. "Johnny? Oh, God, Johnny..." 

Doggett pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his sister cry. 

"Hey... Sally..." He could feel his voice thickening and they hadn't even started the conversation. 

"Aww, Jeez, Sal, I'm so sorry. I wish I could've been there with you." 

"S'okay, John, I understand. The job, an' all." 

"Fuck the job!" He heard her laugh a little at that. "I shoulda been there for you, babe..." 

"Never mind that now." She cleared her throat. "So, what? You off the case?" 

"Yeah." 

"You think you'll be coming over then?" 

Doggett wasn't sure how he felt about her having to ask that. "Course. I got a flight booked for the morning. Should be with you around dinner time." 

"Great." 

Doggett heard himself ask the question in his head before it came out of his mouth. 

"How is he?" 

"Not so good." 

Doggett winced. "Yeah?" 

"He's not eating, drinking, you know." 

"Uh-huh." His head felt stuffed up. And as if sensing his pain, Skinner stroked a comforting hand over his chest. 

"Mamma's been keeping on at him, but it don't seem to be making any difference. I reckon..." 

She paused. 

"What?" He asked, although he thought he already knew the answer. 

"I reckon he's goin', Johnny." 

Shit. 

Doggett screwed his eyes up. Hearing her say it just made it worse. 

The guilt piled higher. He kept his eyes closed and focused on the strokes of Skinner's hand. 

"Aw, Sal... I'm sorry. I'm on my way to you, babe, I promise." 

"I know." She sighed. "John... It's not gonna be... Easy, you know." 

He knew what she was referring to. Or rather to whom. 

"Yeah, I figured as much. How's she been? About me not bein' there, I mean?" 

Sal snorted. "Like she was right to cut you out of the family, after all." 

Doggett pulled in a sharp breath. That hurt. Shit, that hurt. 

"I know it's not right, Johnny, and I know it's not fair, but you know Mamma." 

"Yeah." He did. 

"Don't worry. I can't wait to see you, hon. And you know what? I'm sure Daddy is holding on for you." 

Doggett's chest constricted. He struggled for a moment before he could speak. 

"Thanks," he whispered. He pulled in a wobbly breath. "I do love you, you know." 

"Love you too, BigDog. It'll be okay, you'll see. Say hi to Walt for me and I'll catch you later, Johnny." 

"Yeah, I will. See ya." 

Slowly lowering the phone, Doggett rested his head on the wall. Shit. 

He was pulled into a dozen bleeding pieces, not knowing what he was supposed to be feeling. How the hell did a family as small as his manage to do this to him? 

"You okay?" Skinner leaned in a kissed the side of his face. 

"No." 

The bed dipped as Skinner pulled himself up. "You want to talk?" 

Not especially," he said, and went on speaking regardless. "Aw, shit, he's dyin', Walt. My dad's dyin'." 

Skinner didn't say anything, for which Doggett was grateful. He just rubbed at his face with both hands. 

"I don't want him to," he said finally, in a small voice. 

"I know." 

"I haven't had enough time with him. We were just gettin' to know each other..." He screwed his face up. "Goddamnit! We were just gettin' to know each other and she goes an'..." 

He punched the bed. "Shit!" 

"It's not your fault, you know that, don't you?" 

"Maybe." 

"John... Your only crime was being honest." 

"My only crime was bein' a faggot," Doggett growled. 

"Don't." 

Sighing, Doggett looked at the other man. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." He touched Skinner's face briefly. "I don't regret what we have for a second. Okay?" 

Skinner nodded. "Okay." 

"I just wish... I just wish I could've had a while longer with him to sort stuff out, you know?" 

"I know." Skinner picked up the hand on the bed and kissed it. "It's never the right time to lose a parent." 

Doggett regarded him. For some reason, Skinner wasn't meeting his eyes. He pondered on that for a while. 

"Tell me about yours," he said when his hand was released. 

"My what?" 

Doggett smiled at the avoidance tactics. "Parents, dummy. Tell me about yours." He snorted. "I could do with confirmation that some people get normal ones." 

Skinner smiled. "Nothing much to tell. They were good people. We got on okay." 

Doggett gave him a look under his eyebrows. "Even the teenage years?" 

Skinner laughed. "Yeah. Pretty much. Except for the time I totaled the old man's Edsel." 

Doggett shrugged. "Did him a favor, man." 

"He didn't look at it that way, strangely." He smiled. "Was the first time he ever laid a hand on me. After he checked me over to make sure I wasn't hurt, first." 

Doggett shook his head in amazement. "The first time ever?" 

"Uh-huh." 

Doggett whistled. "Man, I tell ya; I was practically black and blue from the time I was old enough to answer back." 

"Doesn't surprise me." 

Doggett gave him the finger. 

"Now, you see what I mean?" Scooting down a bit, Skinner arranged the pillows. "Here. Lie down with me." 

Obeying, Doggett sighed as he cuddled up to the warm body. He was going to get a good night's sleep; just the fact that Skinner was in bed with him guaranteed that fact. He yawned. 

"Warm enough?" 

"Yeah. Just great, thanks." He rubbed his nose and settled his head on Skinner's broad chest, snuffling the hairs out of his way. They lay quietly. 

"You miss 'em?" he asked into the darkening room. "Your mom and dad, I mean." 

Skinner was quiet for so long that Doggett began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. 

"Yes. I do." 

"Still?" 

"Every day." 

Doggett thought about that. He couldn't decide if it was better to be like Skinner and feel the pain of missing folks long after they'd gone, or to be like him and get all your pain in while they were still alive. Either way it seemed like you were in line for a good kick in the balls. 

A sudden thought occurred to him. He frowned, trying to recall if he'd been told dates. 

"Hey, Walt; isn't it the two-year mark, about this time of year?" 

Skinner was silent for a while. Doggett craned his head to look up. 

He could only see the underside of his jaw. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes," Skinner replied. "It is." 

"When exactly?" 

Doggett's head bobbed on the broad chest as Skinner sighed. 

"The day you went away." 

Doggett closed his eyes. "Aw, shit, Walt..." He rubbed Skinner's belly. "I feel bad about that." 

"I'm okay," Skinner told him, mentally crossing his fingers against the slight lie. "It's fine." 

"Yeah, but..." 

"John; don't do this to yourself. You borrow guilt far too easily, you know that?" 

Doggett snorted. 

"Look. I'm okay, really. I might get a little down when the anniversary rolls around, but I'll live." He ruffled Doggett's hair. "Besides, I used it as an excuse to get time off to come get you." 

"I was wonderin' how you managed to swing this." 

"Strategic planning." 

"Devious, more like." 

"Whatever." 

Doggett lay still, enjoying the way Skinner was petting fingers though his hair. 

Skinner cleared his throat. "I wish you could've met them. They'd have liked you." 

Doggett was absurdly touched by that. He smiled. 

"Thank you. I wish that , too. Mind you, I bet they'd have freaked when you brought home this skinny-assed sack of shit for tea." 

Skinner chuckled. "Probably. For all of two seconds. Then my mom would have given you several helpings of cake to fatten you up, and my dad would've taken you to the den to see his model railway." 

"Yeah?" 

"No doubt about it." 

Doggett laughed softly then yawned again. "Damn, I'm beat." 

He felt a soft kiss on the top of his head. "Go to sleep. I'll watch over you." 

Doggett looked up, his face questioning. 

Skinner shrugged. "My dad would stay with me whenever I was upset or sick. Said he watched over me to keep bad dreams away and only let the good ones into the room." 

Doggett smiled. "I like that." 

Skinner kissed his forehead. "Go to sleep." 

And Doggett obeyed faster than he could believe. 

* * *

Chapter 32. 

The plane ride had been uneventful enough, the food snack-ish and tasteless. Skinner refrained from commenting that as Doggett had picked at his breakfast, he could have done with eating all the airline had to offer, but he guessed his lover's appetite had deserted him. A small carton of Chinese take-out from the road-side diner didn't constitute a proper meal for a grown man, but it was the most he could get Doggett to force down. It was as if his stomach was shriveling up the nearer to the hospital they drove. 

He kept sneaking glances over at him, concerned at the pallor of his lover's face. Even underneath the beard , he looked decidedly gray. 

Doggett had stayed with him while he found a parking space at the medical center, despite offering to drop him off and run back. It didn't take a therapist to guess Doggett was nervous as hell about the visit, so Skinner held back from teasing. He was just going to be there for him, in whatever capacity was required. 

As they walked from the parking-lot in silence. Skinner could only imagine the way Doggett's thoughts must be churning. 

He held back as Doggett asked for directions at the desk until he caught sight of a familiar face making her way towards them. He touched Doggett on the elbow and nodded behind them. 

"Hey you guys," Sal said, holding her arms out. 

Doggett grabbed his sister and hugged, the two of them holding on tight to each other in the middle of the corridor. Skinner stood by, glaring at anyone who looked remotely as if they might ask them to move on. 

"Hey, baby." Doggett held her at arms length, studying her face. He didn't tell her she looked dreadful, he figured she already knew that. He brushed the hair from her face. "How you holdin' up?" 

"Okay." She shrugged, then brightened a little. "Hey, love the face-fur," she said, giving his beard a small tug. 

"You do?" 

"Yeah. Kinda suits you." She looked at him this way and that. "Makes you look older, though." 

"Jeez... Like I need that! Thanks. It's comin' off as soon as we hit DC." 

Sal laughed softly. "You vain creature." She turned to Skinner. "Hey, you; Big guy. Gimme a hug." 

Skinner obliged, wrapping himself around the woman, trying to convey his support. "I'm sorry about all this, Sal," he said softly. 

"Thanks. Families, huh?" 

"Something like that." They smiled at one another. 

"You ready?" Sal asked, taking Doggett's hand. 

"Not really." 

She smiled. "C'mon. Let's get it over with." 

"She know I'm here?" 

Sal led the way, pulling her brother along. "Nope." 

"Aw, gee... Thanks." 

"I thought it might be easier if it was a done deal." 

Doggett grunted. He glanced back at Skinner, seeking reassurance. He winked, his dark eye shining with affection. 

Smiling, Doggett took courage. How bad could it be? Wasn't like she was big enough to throw him out on his ass. 

Several corridors and one set of stairs later, Sal paused outside a door. 

"In here," she said. 

Skinner pointed at a chair against the wall. "Maybe I should sit and wait out here." 

Doggett snapped a look at him. "No way. I want you with me." He reached behind to touch Skinner's arm. 

"But..." 

"Please?" 

Skinner smiled. He couldn't say no to this man. "Okay." 

Doggett stared at the label on the door. It was curled up on one corner. In bold, black type it read: DOGGETT, JOHN. 

It felt vaguely creepy seeing his name printed up like that. Reminded him of his service days. 

This was no bunk-room label; this was the room where his dad was dying. He swallowed. 

"C'mon; it'll be okay, Johnny," Sal whispered, pushing the heavy door open. 

The smell of antiseptic rushed at him in a wave of heat. As the door swung back, he could see the end of the bed, several beeping colorful machines arranged neatly, and his mother, sitting in a high-backed chair, staring at him. 

His first thought was that she looked old. The next thought was that she didn't look the least bit pleased to see him. And even less pleased to see who was standing behind him. 

"What are you doing here?" she snapped. 

Breathing deeply, Doggett was determined not to go on the defensive. "I've come to see dad." 

"Well, he doesn't want to see you." She turned away, looking at the figure in the bed. 

Doggett bit down on the sharp comment in his throat and stepped all the way into the room. 

"Oh, Mom..." Sal held out her hands. "Let's not start a fight, huh? 

Johnny just wants to see Papa." 

"Does he, now?" 

"Yeah, I do." 

Doggett walked over to the bed. He did a double-take. There must be a mistake, this wasn't his dad. He stared down at the wizened old man lying drowning in wires. This couldn't be his dad. A sudden stab of pain hit him in the guts. His father had desiccated and gone white; all the color had bled out. 

Shit. 

Doggett winced. He should have been to visit him more at home; should have thrown the case in and come as soon as he found out. Now it was almost too late. 

A choked sound coughed up out of him. He held his breath, trapping anything else that might want to creep out. 

"You see that? You see how he is?" His mother's voice was harsh and shrill. "You did that to him!" 

"Mama!" Sal scolded. "That's not fair!" 

Doggett turned at the accusation. His mother stood at the end of the bed, wagging her finger at him, a Harpy in a floral print dress. 

"What did you say?" His voice was little more than a whisper. 

"You and your..." Her face contorted as she looked from Skinner to Doggett and back again. 

Doggett opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of her assessment of his father's condition and his role in it, but Sal tugged at her arm. 

"C'mon, Mama, let's go and get a coffee, huh?" 

"I don't want...' "Sure you do." Sal pulled her mother towards the door. "Let's go to the canteen. John will watch Papa." 

Sal pulled an apologetic face as she dragged her mother out of the room. Doggett watched them leave, his rage still burning. 

"Did you hear that shit?" he snapped as the door closed. 

"I did." Skinner walked over to him. "Forget it. She's just upset." 

Doggett growled bitterly. "Y'think?" For two cents he'd to tear out after her and tell her exactly what he thought of her opinion. 

"Come on." There was a gentle touch to his arm. "You're here for your father, remember?" 

Sighing, Doggett dragged his gaze back to the occupant of the bed. He jumped slightly as he noticed a pair of blue eyes watching him. 

"Papa?" 

He stepped closer, hesitating for a second before taking his father's hand. It felt weird, papery on the top but clammy and moist in the palm. It was unpleasant, but he curled his fingers around it regardless. 

"Hi there," he said, wondering if the old man could hear him, let alone speak. "You're not doin' so good, huh?" The eyes blinked at him; red-rimmed and tired. 

"You in any pain?" 

There was no reaction, which didn't surprise Doggett. He just kept on smiling, stroking the shriveled hand with his fingers. His father stared at him, but he couldn't tell if he actually saw anything. He couldn't tell if there was anything going on behind the eyes. The thought made his throat swell. 

There was a movement at his side and Skinner slid an arm over his shoulders. 

"Hi, Mr. Doggett," Skinner said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry I couldn't get John here any sooner. He's been frantic about you." 

Doggett glanced up, grateful. The fact that Skinner was able to speak so naturally to his father was a blessing. He didn't think he could say anything else right now. 

He watched Skinner reach over and lay his hand on his father's arm. "I hope you feel better soon, sir." 

Doggett bit down hard on his lip. He wasn't going to break down. Not here. He wasn't going to cry; not in front of his dad. 

He felt a chair being pushed behind him and he sank down the moment it touched the back of his legs. He smiled a tight smile at his dad, keeping a tight hold on the hand lying in his. 

Holding himself together was harder than he'd imagined. 

* 

By the time the evening shadows had called out for the lights, an uneasy truce had descended in the room. Skinner had left some time earlier to arrange a motel room and Doggett had taken up a watchful position at the foot of the bed, with Sal at his side. 

Their mother sat beside the bed, singularly unimpressed to find John still there, but sleep keeping her from adding anything more to her repertoire of hurtful comments. 

They sat in silence, listening to the peep and beep of the machines regulating their father's death. His eyes had stayed open, something that seriously creeped Doggett out. It looked like they were being watched, but the watery blue eyes never blinked, never moved. He wanted to lean over and close them, but he was scared it might feel too much like shutting a dead man's eyes so he resisted the urge. 

Doggett stared at the monitor beside his father's bed, hypnotized by the flashing lights. 

"You okay?" Sal asked. 

"I guess." He rubbed his eyes. "Just tired." 

She glanced at the head on the pillows. "I hear you." 

"You been able to sleep much?" 

"Some. There's a cot in the corner. Mama and I have been taking turns." 

Scratching his head, Doggett sighed. "I wish I'd been more help to you." 

"Oh, John. It's okay. Stop worrying yourself." 

"I know but..." 

"It doesn't matter, sweetie. Really." She reached up to comb her fingers through the mess he'd made of his hair. "Tell me about your case. Not the gory details. Just some of it." 

Doggett snorted. There wasn't much of the whole damned episode he was willing to share with his sister. 

"Now, a noise like that must mean it was some kind of fun," she laughed. 

"Wouldn't call it that." 

"What were you doing? Walt said you were undercover, or something." 

Doggett nodded. "Uh-huh. Tryin' to find out if some judges were on the take." 

"Sounds risky." 

Doggett shrugged. "I guess." 

"Walt must have been frantic." 

He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Yeah; suppose he must have. Funny, he never really thought about it. He sighed. He knew how he'd feel if it had been Skinner stuck in a place like that. 

He'd have been climbing the walls. 

"Glad you're safe, anyway." 

Doggett smiled at her. "Thanks." He laughed softly. "At least I know what it's like for all the guys I put in jail." 

"What d'you mean?" 

"That's where I was. In a max security facility." He knocked his wrists together. "Prisoner C342265." 

"Jesus wept, Johnny!" 

"Don't panic. I'm fine." 

"But you could've..." 

He reached over and took her hand "Relax. I'm okay. It's all over with, now. Mind you," He shook his head. "Not something I'd wanna repeat in a hurry." 

"I'll bet." She patted his hand, the two of them lost in respective thoughts. At last she sighed. 

"So I suppose asking for any funny stories is kinda redundant, huh?" 

Doggett chuffed a little laugh. "You could say that. Not much to laugh about in prison." He pursed his lips and thought about it. "But there was this one guy..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Weirder than shit. Looked like he shoulda been drawing his social security, not queuing up for prison food." He chuckled. "Damn near talked me to death." 

"You made friends with him, then?" 

"Kinda. We shared a cell." 

"Uh-huh. So what'd he do?" 

Doggett shook his head. "That's somethin' a man doesn't ever ask." 

"Oh..." She squeezed his hand. "So tell me why he was strange, instead." 

Doggett laughed louder. "Aw, Jeez! I could give you a list! That man was nuttier than a Snickers bar. He couldn't stand it when his toothbrush leaned over; he's sit for hours, tryin' to make it stand upright. And wouldn't go anywhere without his button-up sweater. " 

Doggett shook his head and chuckled. "He'd lick all the chocolate off his cookies before dropping the rest over the edge of his bunk on top of me." 

He pulled a face. "An' you don't ever wanna see what he did when he trimmed his toenails..." 

"Aww, Johnny!" 

"Him talkin' without stoppin' to take a breath while I'm tryin' to sleep, used to drive me nuts." He shook his head. "But the freakiest thing about him, was the way he would talk to me like he knew me; knew you all." 

"Really?" 

"Uh-huh. Outta nowhere, he'd start talkin' about Mama, like he'd just finished takin' tea with her." 

Sal laughed. "Like that's ever gonna happen." 

He grunted. "Tell me about it. He went on about some guy, called Michael all the time. Said he was our brother." 

Sal frowned. "What? 

Doggett shrugged. "Beats the shit outta me." 

Sal looked sharply at him. "John..." 

He threw up his hands. "Hey - the guy's nuts, y'know. I told him we don't got a brother, but he wouldn't have it." 

"John..." 

Doggett laid his head on the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Rebadow doing the same thing in Oz, counting the holes in the ceiling tiles. "Nuts," He muttered. "Absolutely batshit. Crazy old man." 

"Johnny?" 

Doggett turned his head; her voice was funny. "What?" 

"I... I think I have something to tell you." 

"Huh?" He sat up. She had a very strange look on her face. "What's the matter?" 

Sal pulled a face, her hands clenching and releasing in her lap. 

"Sal? What?" Doggett looked from the flexing hands to the contorted face. He reached over to touch her arm. "You're scaring me. What's wrong?" 

"Oh, shit, Johnny. I wanted to tell you, but I figured it wasn't mine to tell." He watched her eyes fill up. 

"Sally; talk to me. Tell me what?" 

Blowing out a sigh, Sally took his hand in hers and squeezed. "I found out by accident. 'Bout ten years ago. I heard her and Daddy arguing." She wiped at her face with the other hand, the sight of her crying kick-starting Doggett's heart rate. He swallowed. 

"Arguing? Like that's news." He grinned as she gave him a weak smile. 

"Thing is... Well, we do..." 

"Do what?" 

She stared at him. "Have a brother." 

It took a few moments for the implications of that sentence to filter down into Doggett's brain, where it settled right next to a whole bunch of other X Files in there. 

He shook his head. "What?" 

"Yeah. I know. Kinda hard to get your head around, huh?" 

He pulled a face. "I don't understand. What d'you mean, a brother?" 

Sal sighed again. "Didn't you ever wonder why there was such a big gap between us?" 

He raised his eyebrows. Thinking about his parents' sex-life had never been high on his list of fun things to do. 

"Gee, I dunno. I guess they..." He winced. "Well, never got lucky." 

Sal smiled. "I thought that too; whenever the idea of them actually doing the nasty crossed my mind." 

"Yeah..." Doggett scrunched his nose up. 

"Well... Seems there was one in the years between, after all." She shrugged. "Michael." 

Doggett frowned and studied their intertwined hands. What the hell? 

He hadn't ever heard anyone in the family talk about another child. 

Not even Aunt Reba, who had a mouth like the Jersey Tunnel. 

He struggled to make sense of the situation. "But... What happened to it... I mean, him. The baby? Stillbirth, maybe?" 

Sal shook her head. "Adoption." 

Doggett sat back and stared. "What?" he whispered. 

Sal glanced over to where their mother sat asleep. 

"Seems Mama had..." She bit her lip. "Well, had an affair, I suppose. 

I don't know with whom, or even why. I just know that it happened and Michael was born. Papa wouldn't let her keep him. Understandable, I guess, but that was what they were arguing about. She wanted to try and find him but he wouldn't let her." 

Doggett listened to her speak, half of him wanting to glean every last morsel of information, the other half wanting to run from the room with his hands over his ears. The thought of his mother doing something so seemingly out of character pinged around in his head in time with the monitors by his father's bed. He glanced over to look at the old man under the sheets. He had known; he had stayed with her, even after she carried another man's child. He didn't know whether to be appalled or in awe. He couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd react in the same position. 

He looked over at Sal. 

"You've known this for ten years?" he asked softly, no condemnation in his voice. 

She nodded. "I didn't think it was my place to tell you. I'm sorry if you..." 

He held up his hand. "No, don't. I understand." He leaned forward. "Jeez, Sal. It must have just about torn you up." 

She sighed again. "Some. I don't know. It just seemed easier to forget about it. Put it out of my head and pretend I didn't hear it, you know?" 

"Uh-huh. I know." 

She grinned at him. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt." 

Doggett laughed softly, pulled her towards him, kissed her forehead then leaned his head on hers, his eyes closed. 

"Wow..." he whispered. 

"Yeah. Wow." 

The door behind them snicked and Doggett turned to see Skinner slipping inside the room. 

Doggett smiled, pulling away from Sal. "Hi." 

Skinner moved to stand behind their chairs. He glanced over at their sleeping mother and quickly leaned down to kiss Doggett. 

"Hi," he replied. Then he moved and kissed Sally. "How are things?" 

he asked. 

"No change." Doggett rubbed his belly and groaned quietly. "God, I'm starving." 

"Good thing I bought supplies, then." Holding up a hand, Skinner showed them the Denny's bag. 

Doggett sat up. "Aw, Walt, you rock!" 

Pulling another chair up, Skinner began to dig in the bag. "I just ordered a load of different stuff, I didn't know what people wanted." 

He handed out containers. "There's sandwiches and salad, wraps and stuff. Just help yourself." 

Doggett peered over. "Any dessert?" 

Skinner grinned. "What d'you think?" 

Sally pulled a box of salad toward her. "He knows you too well, Piglet." 

Doggett grunted and opened a box with cheesecake. "Whatever... Aww, toffee pecan..." He looked up and mouthed 'I love you' at the other man. 

Skinner laughed. "Yeah. You'd better." He handed out napkins and glanced up, doing a double-take. "Would you care to join us, Mrs. 

Doggett?" 

Doggett and Sal both turned. Their mother stared at them from across the bed. Doggett wondered how long she'd been awake. 

Sally held up her salad. "There's loads of food, Ma. Walt got enough for everyone." 

Skinner held up a napkin. "Please. Join us." 

They watched her shake her head. "No. I don't think so," she said coldly. 

Sal held her hand out. "Ma; don't..." 

"Don't what?" 

"Don't be like that. Look, Walt was kind enough to get us some dinner; at least come share it with us." 

"No thank you." There was a sharp shake of her head and she turned away. 

Doggett felt his temper rise and seriously contemplated getting up to slap the look off her face. The grip on his sandwich tightened to the point where sliced tomato squirted out. He didn't notice as it slid down his pants and onto the floor. All he could see was the back of his mother's head and the blinding need to walk over and yell at it. 

He didn't know if it was a reaction to Sal's revelation, or just the left-overs from her pissy attitude towards him. 

Ever the diplomat, Skinner laid his hand on Doggett's. 

"Well, there's plenty here, if you change your mind." He shook his head slightly as Doggett looked up. "It's okay," he muttered. "Just eat your food." 

Doggett looked at the crushed sandwich in his hand. He made a conscious effort to relax his fingers. The juices from the abused fruit ran down into his palm. It looked like his hand was bleeding. 

Or weeping. He switched hands, pausing to lick the moisture off. He sighed, anger giving way a little. This wasn't the time or the place to be fighting with his mother. 

"Ma. Please come eat. You need to keep your strength." 

She made a noise. "For what? So I can be fit and healthy while your father dies?" 

Doggett winced. "Ma..." 

"What? You think I don't know that?" Her voice rose. "My husband's dying and I'll be all alone. Why do I need to be strong for that?" 

Doggett stared at her, his blood pounding. She was perched forward on the edge of her chair, gripping the handles with clawed hands. He wondered which one of them was on the verge of losing control. 

"Hey... You won't be all alone." He waved a hand. "You'll have Sal and..." He hesitated and then shrugged. "Me." 

She made a disparaging noise at that, but didn't bite his head off. 

He glanced at Skinner who raised his eyebrows. He shrugged and tried to keep his voice neutral. 

"I mean it, Ma. Anything you need, okay?" 

She looked up at him. "You mean it?" 

Sal sighed. "Of course he means it, Ma." 

"Anything?" 

Doggett nodded. "Uh-huh." 

With a triumphant look, she pointed at Skinner. "Then tell him to get out. Out of this room. Out of your life." 

* * *

Chapter 33 

Doggett's mouth fell open. He'd walked into that one with both eyes open and his legs apart, just inviting her to give him a good, hard kick in the balls. 

"What did you say?" 

"Are you deaf as well as sinful?" 

Doggett's mouth dropped further. 

"Ma..." Sal started to rise out of her chair. "There's no need for that, for God's sake!" 

"Isn't there? 

"You don't wanna be doing that," Doggett warned, his face dark. 

"Doing what, might I ask?" 

"Throwin' stones." 

She glared at him. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" 

"Johnny..." Sal reached out. 

Doggett ignored her. "Glass houses, Ma." 

"I don't know what you mean." She folded her arms over her chest. "Seems to me like being one of those types had addled your brains." 

Doggett's stomach burned, anger building in acid-filled waves. He placed his sandwich on the empty bag and stood up. No way was she going to beat him with the guilt-stick any longer. 

He stepped towards her. 

"I don't care what you think of me any more. I'm old enough to decide for myself who I love." He pointed at Skinner. "And whether you approve or despise me for it, I love that man." He pulled his hand back to point at her. "Seems to me you're the last person in this room to be lecturing anyone about being sinful." 

"Johnny..." He felt Sal touch his arm. "Don't." 

He ignored her and continued to glare at their mother with the same furrowed brow. He might have inherited her temper, but he was damned sure he hadn't got her morals. He had never cheated on his wife. 

He watched her hand rise. "I ought to slap your face for you, young man." 

"Go ahead. See if it makes you feel any better." 

As her hand flew out to crack against the side of his face, he idly wondered if his father could hear all this and what he would be thinking. Same old, probably. Same old. 

"Ma!" 

"No!" 

Hearing the other two cry out through the ringing in his ear, Doggett held his hand up to stop them intervening. He pointed at Betty. 

"You get that one for free. But it's the last time. You hear me?" 

"Why you..." 

Her hand came up again but he caught it easily. He held her wrist firmly. 

"You listen to me, Ma and listen good..." He ducked his head slightly so he looked her straight in the eye. "You either love me for what I am, regardless of who shares my bed, or you and I are done. You don't get to pick who you love. Family, or otherwise. It just happens. You of all people should understand that." 

Her struggles to free her arm stopped as he said that. Her head tilted on one side in a way he recognized from the mirror. A shiver ran through him. 

"What do you mean?" she said. 

Doggett swallowed. It was too late to back off now. And most of him was glad. 

"Did you love him more than Papa?" 

"Who?" 

"Michael's father." 

Doggett stood and watched as all the color and fight drained out of his mother at his words. He slowly released her wrist as it became clear from her face that hitting him was the last thing on her mind. 

"Oh..." She covered her mouth, eyes wide. 

"Mama..." Sal stepped up to put her arm around sagging shoulders. "Here, sit." She guided her mother to her chair in time for her legs to give way. "It's okay... it's okay." 

Doggett watched his sister fussing, wondering if he should feel concerned, sorry, or just plain, old-fashioned guilty. He glanced over at Skinner and decided to concentrate on the first two and leave the last item on the shelf. He moved to stand next to the bigger man, feeling a hand slide up his warm back to rub in little circles. He was done with guilt. 

"How long... " Betty cleared her throat. "How long have you known?" 

Doggett shrugged. "A while," he said, deliberately vague. He flicked a look at Sal who nodded slightly. 

"Oh..." She twisted her hands together, watching them writhe and clutch at each other. Her face contorted. "I didn't ... It wasn't..." 

Sally patted her shoulders. "Shhh. It's okay." 

Doggett really didn't feel the need to listen to a confession. "Ma. 

You don't have to explain." Whatever had happened was between his parents. "I just wanted to make a point." 

He had also wanted to lash out and hurt, but he thought she probably knew that already. 

"The point being that we all make mistakes?" She moved her eyes to Skinner as she spoke. Doggett felt his hackles rise. He stepped forward. 

"Yeah, we do, Ma. And Lord knows I've made my fair share." He made sure she was looking at his face as he spoke. "But Walt isn't one of them." 

"But..." 

Bending to crouch in front of her, he took her hands in his and stilled them. "Love is never a mistake, Ma. And I don't give a shit what anyone thinks of that; I love him." 

"Don't curse," she scolded softly. 

He smiled. "Okay." 

They looked at one another long enough for Doggett to feel the prickle of blood-loss in his legs. 

Finally, Betty sighed. 

"I love your father. Don't ever doubt that." 

Doggett nodded. "Okay." 

"I did. I do." She reached up to take Sal's hand. "I love you both, too." 

Doggett didn't speak, but Sal leaned in. "We know, Ma." 

"I didn't want to give him up. But Jack couldn't stand it." She pulled in a deep breath. "So I had to choose. It was either my family, or my baby. I couldn't keep both." A look of distress passed across her face. "Oh, but I wanted him. I wanted to keep him so bad." 

She reached up to stroke Doggett's cheek. "He looked so much like you, Johnny. It near broke my heart to let him go." 

"Ma..." He covered her hand with his. "It's okay. You don't have to say any more. I understand." 

If there was one thing John Doggett understood, it was losing a child. 

"Your dad was going to take you way from me if I didn't give him up..." Her voice caught. "You were seven years old; how could I let him walk out with you?" 

Doggett's head was filled with images of what must have happened. The tears, the fights and the compromise. He didn't think he had the imagination to put himself in either of his parent's shoes. 

He pushed the pictures away and turned his head to kiss his mother's hand. "It doesn't matter now. Let's just move on, huh?" 

"Oh, John..." 

"Hush, Ma." 

"John..." Doggett looked up at Skinner's soft voice. "Your dad." 

* 

Doggett looked over at the bed and felt his guts drop. The monitors were stuttering and flashing. 

"Oh god..." 

He stood quickly, his knees popping and creaking, panic grabbing at him. Not now... This couldn't be happening now, it wasn't the right moment. He wasn't ready. 

"Jack?" Betty reached the bed first. She took a wizened hand in hers. "Jack?" 

Doggett moved to stand on the opposite side, Sal's hand slipping into his. They looked at the figure lying under the crisp sheets. He was gray, with all but his eyes looking as dry as parchment. His eyes were bright, not with tears or anything as melodramatic as that, but just with a shiny film of double-glazing. 

Doggett was sure if he reached out and slid them shut, it would be for the last time. 

"Jack? Can you hear me, honey?" Betty stroked his hand. "Everyone's here. We're all here for you, sweetheart." 

Doggett didn't know what he was expecting, maybe some sort of death-bed scene that would add completion to the moment. Maybe his dad would reach out and take his hand, telling him it was okay, don't worry, he loved him. Hell, even a blink of his eyes would be something. 

But not this. Not this total lack of response. 

Typical; trust the old man to try and get out of dealing with a major family scene by dying. 

Doggett nearly smiled. Betty would have been royally pissed if he'd managed to slip away without anyone noticing. 

"Dad?" 

He put his fingers out to touch his father's forearm. The skin moved but didn't spring back into place like it ought. 

He supposed he should say more, but his throat betrayed him, closing up. 

And then it was over. No fanfare, not sudden declaration, just a continuous green line on a monitor and a still chest. 

Doggett held his breath, waiting for the old man to struggle and gasp, to start breathing again, but eventually, the air hissed out of his lungs in a resigned sigh. 

That was that. Jack Doggett wasn't there any more. 

* * *

Chapter 34. 

The room was lit by just one lamp. Doggett lay on his back and listened to the sound of Skinner in the shower. Nearly a whole day after his father had died and he still hadn't cried. Not that he reckoned that was all that important, he'd shed more than enough tears while the old man had been alive. No doubt he'd see some more at the funeral. 

Sally had gone to pieces at the hospital so he'd been more than occupied with consoling her to indulge himself. Well, that and dealing with his mother's grief. She had been tearful, but not as hysterical as he might have imagined. But then she'd always been the type to fly into a hissy-fit over minor stuff rather than the biggies. He was grateful for that much. Seemed that the mantle of being head of the family had dropped squarely on his shoulders with the appearance of that thin, green line and he didn't think he was anywhere near ready for it. 

He sighed and stretched his arms over his head. It was strange, but after the challenge he threw down about Michael, he seemed to have reached a new level of understanding with his mother. Not that she was thrilled all of a sudden to have a gay son, but she had at least stopped making sharp and hurtful comments. That was progress of a sort, he supposed. Maybe after the dust had settled and the funeral was out of the way she'd start up again. He wouldn't start celebrating their new-found relationship just yet. 

A damp Skinner came into the room, clutching a towel. Doggett grinned. 

"How you feeling?" Skinner asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, drying off what was left of his hair. 

"I'm doin' okay," Doggett replied, running a hand over the damp back. 

"Sure?" 

Uh-huh. Sure." 

"Good." He leaned in to kiss Doggett soundly. "Glad to hear it. But it's not going to be that simple, you know," he said, shaking his head. 

Doggett sighed and lay back on the pillows. "I know." 

"Do you?" 

"I think so. It's gonna take some time for her to get her happy head around us." 

"I wasn't talking about that." 

Doggett frowned. "Oh?" 

"Your dad. It's going to take you a while to get used to the fact he's not around for you." 

Sighing loudly, Doggett rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, well. S'not like he was there for me a whole lot anyway." 

"But still..." 

Doggett laid his arms over his head. "Look, Walt. I appreciate what you're sayin'. But our families were nothing alike, okay? You still hurt over your folks, two years down the line. Can't see that happening myself. I'm sorry an' all that. I loved him, but I'm not gonna have a breakdown because he's dead." 

"Okay. I'll hold you to that." 

Doggett grinned. "I'd rather you just held me to you." He reached out and grabbed Skinner's shoulder's pulling him down on the bed. 

"Easy, Big Dog. We're supposed to out of here in a half hour." 

Doggett tweaked a nipple. "Think we got time for a quickie?" 

"Uh-uh." Skinner pulled away, grinning. "Not unless you want your mother bursting in on us to find out where we are." 

Doggett laughed softly. "That'd sure clear up any misconceptions she might have about our relationship. 

Skinner grunted. "I don't think she has any misconceptions; that's the problem." 

He stood up, allowing Doggett to admire the magnificent view and began dressing. Doggett lay back and watched. 

"You know, I like you in the khaki pants." 

Skinner gave him an amused look. "Yeah?" 

"Definately." 

"Then khaki it is." 

Doggett grinned at the sight of Skinner bending over to pull on his pants. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of that view. 

"Nice ass," he said. 

Skinner gave him a stern look over his shoulder. "You're impossible," 

he grumbled, buttoning himself up. 

"That's me." 

Pulling a sweater out of his bag, Skinner frowned as he unfolded it. "You think you'll try and find him?" 

"Who?" 

"Your brother." 

Doggett felt himself flinch a little at that. He'd pushed the concept out of his head and hearing Skinner voice the fact that he had another sibling was startling. 

"I'm not sure." 

"Must have crossed your mind." Skinner popped his head through the neck of his clothes. "It's crossed mine." 

Doggett smiled. "What? You mean thinkin' about tryin' to get a pair of Doggett's in your bed?" 

A balled-up pair of socks flew across the room, making Doggett chuckle. 

Skinner winced. "I can't believe you said that." 

"You thought about it, though?" Doggett teased, throwing the socks back. 

"No," Skinner replied, a slow grin spreading over his face, betraying him. 

"Pervert." 

Skinner shrugged. "Hey, you brought it up." 

Doggett shook his head. "An' I'm real sorry 'bout that, now." 

"So? What about it?" 

"Aww, Jeez, Walt!" Doggett screwed his face up. 

Skinner sat on the end of the bed. "I meant trying to find him, you reprobate." 

"Oh." Doggett sighed. "To be honest, I haven't really had chance to think about it yet. Maybe." He shrugged. "Who knows? I don't know... 

Might be kinda wierd." 

"He is your family." 

"Might not know it. Might come as a hell of a shock to some poor guy." 

"You're not that scary." 

Doggett smiled. "I was thinkin' about Ma." 

Skinner laughed. "Oh. I see what you mean." 

"And speaking of the devil..." Doggett pulled himself up. "We'd better get goin'." 

* 

Taking his credit card back off the clerk, Skinner turned to watch the family group in the departure lounge. 

Doggett stood between his mother and Sal, looking from one to the other. Skinner thought he was holding up well, despite the last few days. He didn't think for a minute that the other man was as over his father's death as he pretended, but whatever happened, he planned on being right beside him when it came down. 

He smiled as Doggett did his characteristic neck-scratch, one hand stuffed deep in his jeans pocket. 

"Is that gonna give you enough time to get it all sorted out?" 

Doggett asked his mother. 

She nodded. "You forget, we're old. We had our funerals planned and paid for a while back." 

Sally rubbed his upper arm, giving it a squeeze. 

"Don't worry, John. I'll help Mama sort out the final details. Just you be sure to hurry back, okay?" 

Doggett nodded. "I just gotta report in, then I'll take some personal time." He shrugged. "Or a vacation. Whichever gives me the most time off." 

Skinner watched him sigh and rub his neck again. An attack of the guilts again, by the look of it. It was getting so he could almost tell what was going through the other man's mind, just from his body language. Well, he wasn't going to let him wallow in that again. He picked up the carry-on bags and moved towards them. 

"Tickets are sorted," he said, moving to stand next to Sal. "I provisionally booked the day after tomorrow for the return trip. I hope that's okay?" He looked at Doggett. 

"Only if you booked two." 

Skinner smiled. "I already took that liberty." 

Doggett grinned at him. "Good." He reached for his bag, making sure to brush Skinner's hand as he took the handles. 

Sally moved to hug him. "You take care, now; and we'll see you in a couple of days." 

Doggett nodded, finding his arms full of sibling. He dropped the bag on the floor to put both his arms around her, his nose buried in her hair. 

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll see ya." He pulled away and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek, making her laugh. "Take care of her?" he whispered. 

Sal nodded. "I will." They smiled at one another, not having to glance over to their mother to know her eyes were on them. She let him go and turned to Skinner. "And you look after my Piglet, you hear?" 

Skinner saluted. "Yes, Ma'am. Whatever you say." 

Sal threw her head back and laughed. "I love it when you talk like that!" She reached up and gave him a hard hug. 

Doggett grinned. Seeing her laugh was good. The best thing he'd seen in the past day, apart from a shower-damp Skinner, of course. 

"Dammit, woman, put him down," he growled with mock severity. 

"Just handling the merchandise," she said, smoothing Skinner's sweater down with a grin. 

Doggett grunted, suppressing a grin of his own. He turned to his mother. "Try an' make her behave, will ya?" 

Betty smiled and shrugged. "Gave up on that, long ago." 

"I hear ya." 

Hesitating for just a split second, Doggett moved to put his arms around her, only a tiny part of his mind wondering if she would push him away. He relaxed slightly as he felt her arms go around his back. 

"Take care, Mama. I'll be back before you know it." He felt her nodding against him. She said something and he pulled back. "Huh? 

What d'you say?" 

"I said I'll look forward to seeing you." She flicked a glance over his shoulder. "Both of you," she added, quietly. 

Doggett felt a surge of something very much like gratitude squirt in his belly. 

"Thank you." 

Betty nodded and stepped around him. Doggett watched in amazement as she held her hand out. 

"Walter..." 

Walt stepped up to take her hand. "Mrs. Doggett." 

"Please; call me Betty." 

Skinner nodded. 

The two of them stared at one another. Doggett was put in mind of a mongoose and snake stand-off. At last, Betty spoke. "We'll see you at the funeral?" 

"With your permission?" 

Betty inclined her head. "I think Jack would have wanted that." 

"Then I'll be there. Thank you." 

The tension of the moment was broken as the announcement for the flight to Washington boomed out above their heads. 

"Shit!" Sally laughed nervously. "That scared the crap outta me." 

"Don't curse, young lady." 

Sal glanced at Doggett and rolled her eyes before cracking up again. 

"We gotta go." Doggett collected his carry-on and nudged Skinner. "C'mon; move it, Fatass." 

Skinner gave him a sour look as they made their way to the check-in. 

"We're going to have to discuss your penchant for name-calling in public, Agent Doggett." 

"Yeah, yeah. You can spank me later." He turned to wave goodbye to the two women. 

"Really?" 

"Uh-huh." Doggett smiled, blowing a kiss to the pair down the corridor. "Tell you what... You can tie me to the bedposts with your handcuffs and make my bare ass sing, big guy." He waved one last time. 

Skinner raised his hand in salute, nodding and smiling at the women. "You know, it's a very good job those two have no idea what you've just suggested," he said. 

"You wanna bet?" Doggett raised his eyebrows. "Mama can read lips." 

Skinner's mouth dropped. He turned, his face starting to burn. "You're kidding?" 

The reached check-in as Doggett grinned. "You reckon?" 

"Jesus, John." 

Laughing, Doggett stuck his elbow in the other man's ribs. "Course I'm kiddin'. But the look on your face was priceless!" He chuckled. "Almost as good as the one on your face when you realized you had to shake my mother's hand." 

Skinner grunted. "Asshole," he said, handing over the tickets. He shook his head and glanced behind. "I thought she was going to pull me in and bite my throat out," he muttered. 

"Aww, poor baby." Doggett leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Maybe you need something nice for bein' so brave..." 

Skinner shivered, trying to keep his face straight in front of the airline clerk. 

"John; don't." Skinner warned. 

He nodded as casually as possible to the clerk who seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to check them in. He was acutely aware of how Doggett was standing so far inside his comfort-zone, that he could smell that cologne he always wore. That added to the fact that he was sure he could feel the other man's breath on his cheek, meant he didn't dare turn and look. 

He also knew, dollars to donuts, that Doggett would have that big, lop-sided grin all over his face. 

"So, Walt, whaddya say you an' me stop off at the store..." Doggett breathed against his ear causing more shivers. 

"An' get some ice-cold beer, some whipped cream and maple syrup..." 

There was a definite grin smothering that voice. Skinner bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Typical Doggett to pick a moment like this to try and verbally seduce him. 

"An' have us a little party?" 

Skinner felt his face redden at the expression on the airline clerk's face. Oh, there was going to be one hell of a payback scheme for this. He turned slowly to look at Doggett. He was, as expected, smirking. 

Crushing all his natural conservative instincts, he raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

"That sounds good, John." He stared into the blue eyes. "I take it I can give your bare ass that thrashing you suggested?" 

With a feeling of triumph at the very small noise Doggett made, Skinner turned back to the clerk and took the tickets from the open-mouthed woman with a beaming smile. 

"Thank you," he said and began to walk toward the Departure lounge. 

He didn't bother to look back to see what color John had gone or how long it took him to come to his senses and follow. The grin on his face felt wonderful and there would be plenty of time to sort out whose ass was going to be spanked in the long hours they were going to be trapped on the plane. 

He wondered if Doggett would be willing to actually go for it when they got home. It sounded quite fun. 

fin.   
  

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